


Never Let Me Go

by AmyPond45



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys are Unrelated, Community: spn_cinema, M/M, Romance, SPN Cinema Genre Challenge, pre-series AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-06 00:10:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12805377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyPond45/pseuds/AmyPond45
Summary: In a world in which medical science has extended human life expectancy to over 100 years, Sam and Dean are clones growing up together in a special school. They know from a young age how important they are to humanity, how they will grow up to help and save people by making the ultimate sacrifice, and Dean believes their lives are meaningful and heroic. Sam, on the other hand, feels malcontented and out of place, and when a new teacher comes to the school and starts opening their eyes to the darkness behind their “Great Purpose,” Sam becomes increasingly rebellious and unhappy. Dean begins to recognize just how much he loves Sam, and their growing love parallels their increasing awareness of their situation and the world they have been created to serve.





	Never Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to vyperdd for the beta! Thank you so much to the mods of spn-cinema for making this wonderful challenge possible!

Whenever Dean thinks back on the day he first saw Sam, he remembers it as the happiest day of his life.

The little boy with the mop of dark hair and pretty multi-colored eyes wasn’t just the cutest thing Dean had ever seen. That was a given. No, the real reason Dean couldn’t take his eyes off the kid, couldn’t stop smiling, could feel his chest expand and his heart pound, was that Sam was _perfect._

Dean didn’t understand why that’s what he thought or felt. It just was.

Being assigned to Sam was a given, too. When Ms. Elizabeth introduced them, matching them up the way all newcomers got matched up with fourth-graders, Dean took Sam’s hand and flashed a cocky grin of triumph because he already knew.

“Sam’s your little brother now, Dean,” Ms. Elizabeth said, although she didn’t need to. “Yours to look after from here on out.”

Pairing the newbies with older “siblings” was an essential part of the way the system worked. Babies and toddlers were raised to the age of five in infant care centers by adult Carers, who were clones themselves, of course. When the five-year-olds transferred to school, they were partnered for the first year with an older child, just long enough to transition to school life in general. The older children modeled appropriate behavior, helped the littles ones adjust to new routines and expectations, and cared for their basic needs. Dean had had his own big brother, an older boy named Alastair, who was in middle school now. Alastair barely acknowledged Dean when they passed in the hall these days. Dean had been a burden and a responsibility that the older boy was clearly glad to be rid of, although technically Alastair was supposed to keep an eye on Dean for the duration of his stay at Seven Gables. Alastair did the job, but he obviously didn’t feel any lasting obligation or fondness for Dean.

Sam was Dean’s for life.

“Come on, Sam,” Dean tugged the little boy’s hand, and Sam looked up at him, hazel eyes wide and watchful. “I’ll show you around.”

For the next four years Sam and Dean were practically inseparable. They ate together, played together, even slept together, since Sam had nightmares and it was easier for his Tutors if Dean just stayed with him all night.

“Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you, Sammy,” Dean told the little boy as he held him close after one particularly nasty nightmare. “Not while I’m around.”

“Promise?” Sam sniffled, burrowing under Dean’s chin, rubbing his tear-soaked face against Dean’s chest.

“Promise,” Dean agreed firmly.

By the time Sam was nine years old, Dean knew he wasn’t ever letting him go.

 

**//**//**

When Sam was ten, they moved him up to the middle school. His test scores were off the charts. The day it happened, Sam announced that he couldn’t sleep with Dean anymore.

“Jake says I’m too big,” he explained to Dean, pouting adorably. “He says boys don’t sleep together in middle school.”

“And you care what Jake thinks?” Dean was hurt.

Sam blushed and looked away, and it made Dean furious for reasons he couldn’t quite figure out at the time.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Sleep with Jake, for all I care. Let him be there when you have nightmares.”

Dean stomped away before he could see the look on Sam’s face, telling himself he didn’t care.

But of course he cared. He knew his feelings for Sam were complicated; it wasn’t exactly normal to be so attached to his little brother. None of the other older siblings ever slept with their littles after the first year, not to mention spending every spare moment in their company. Besides, no matter how much it hurt to admit it, Jake was right. Sam was ten years old at that point, in a class with twelve-year-olds. He needed to start learning to be more independent. He needed to grow up.

Dean lost his virginity a week later.

**//**//**

Seven Gables was a boarding school for clones, one of a large number spread across the country, although Dean had heard that most of the others were more like prisons than schools. He didn’t know what he’d done to be so special, to be brought to Seven Gables to begin his training. It was an elite place, reserved for the best and brightest students, and he knew he was one of the lucky ones, just to be there.

The locals called it St. Lucy’s School for Terminals.

When he first heard the nickname, Dean assumed it was in honor of one of the Cloning Project’s founders, Lucy Lockwood. By the time Sam arrived at the school, six months after Dean’s ninth birthday, Dean realized the name referred to Lucifer, Prince of Darkness. Seven Gables students weren’t considered lucky by the local population. They were considered creeps and freaks, Children of Satan, when they were thought of at all. Definitely not human.

Dean tried not to think about that. It wasn’t hard to do. The children never left the school. All supplies were brought in by delivery once a week, by mostly silent delivery people who wouldn’t meet the eyes of the curious students. Gardeners were also outsiders, but the children did much of the general upkeep of the grounds and school buildings themselves, so they had minimal contact with anyone from the outside world other than their Guardians. Even the kitchen and cleaning staff were clones.

The Guardians were the only originals who lived on the campus. There were five women and two men, most of whom taught in the high school. The younger grades were all taught by Tutors who were not much older than the seniors. They were clones, of course, just like their students, but they had been to college, and there was an air of glamor about them. The Tutors had lived in the outside world. They knew things, understood things, even though they, too, had once been Seven Gables students. Among Dean’s group of friends, there was more than a little excitement and competition to become just like them, and Dean was pretty sure the entire school felt the same.

“You must study hard, follow the rules, be an example to your peers around the country at other institutions,” Ms. Emily told them during morning assembly. “You must set a good example for your younger brothers and sisters here at Seven Gables. One day, some of you may become Carers or Companions. Some of you may be assigned to work in an infant care center. Some of you may go to college and come back here to be Tutors, or serve as Guardians at one of the other schools. All of you will serve the Great Purpose, but some of you will be lucky enough to serve in other ways as well.”

By the time Dean was fourteen, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be going to college.

For one thing, he hated to study. His grades were nothing to crow about, and he just wasn’t an artist, no matter how much painting and drawing he did. It wasn’t that he didn’t have talents, though; he was good at sports, fixing things, and hanging out with his friends. And Sam.

Oh, and girls. All the girls.

It didn’t hurt that he’d been blessed with devastating good looks, as Josie told him the first time she kissed him. She and her group of friends took turns dating him during his first two years of middle-school, and it was good. The Guardians didn’t seem to mind if the students hooked up, although they were strict about diseases and hygiene.

“Your bodies must be kept healthy,” Ms. Emily told them on more than one occasion. “You must stay clean and strong so that you can grow up and fulfill the Great Purpose for which you were created. The entire world depends on you, so you must be careful not to damage your bodies while you are young.”

They all knew what the Great Purpose was. They had been hearing about it since they were too little to understand. At fourteen, Dean had more important things to think about, and becoming a Donor someday off in the distant future felt like the least of his concerns. It was inevitable, and he accepted it, as did everyone else at the school. It didn’t seem worth worrying about, since there wasn’t anything he could do about it anyway.

Sex was much more important, much more exciting, and way more interesting.

It wasn’t forbidden, since the clones couldn’t conceive babies, but it wasn’t encouraged or condoned, either. Each dormitory room contained ten to twenty beds, and a Tutor slept with them most nights, ensuring they went to sleep on time and got the appropriate amount of rest. Nevertheless, the middle-schoolers were a creative group. There were rooms in the main house where no Guardian or Tutor ever entered, spaces under stairs and in closets that Dean remembered from his days playing hide-and-seek.

Dean lost his virginity in a broom closet on the fourth floor with a girl who was four years older, shortly after Sam stopped sleeping with him. He and the girl met regularly for sex in the closet for about a week after that, then it was over. Dean had a couple of other sexual adventures with older girls after that, including a particularly bold girl named Rhonda who insisted he put on a pair of her pink silk panties and nothing else while she did things to him that made him blush when he thought about it later.

Those girls were gone by the end of the year, off to one of the holding centers where they would await their next assignments. Dean never saw them again.

//**//**//*

That fall, a new Guardian arrived.

She was younger than the other Guardians, and when she was introduced at morning assembly she seemed a little overwhelmed. Dean imagined he’d feel the same way if he had to stand up in front of the whole school and be introduced like that. There were over five-hundred students at Seven Gables, ranging in age from five to eighteen. In Dean’s grade alone there were 40 students, and although he knew every one of them, he was only close with his little group of ten who had always been assigned to the same sleeping and eating areas. He couldn’t imagine trying to get familiar with all five-hundred and twenty-six students.

“This is Ms. Kim,” Ms. Emily announced. “She will be teaching English and History in the middle school, along with Art and Music. We know you will all make her feel welcome and be on your best behavior. Show her how deserving Seven Gables students are of the fine education and high expectations we have here.”

That afternoon, during the all-school baseball game to honor the new Guardian, Dean hit a home-run over the fence, all the way into the field beyond. After his team finished congratulating him, he turned to find Ms. Kim watching him curiously.

“Why didn’t anyone go after the ball?” she asked, and Dean shook his head.

“It’s out of bounds, ma’am,” he said. “No one’s allowed off school grounds.”

“Ever?” She asked, clearly surprised.

“Well, we leave after senior year, of course. When we’re eighteen.”

“Right,” Ms. Kim blinked and looked abashed, like she’d forgotten that most basic of facts for a moment.

“Sometimes a kid breaks the rules,” Ruby said, and Dean could tell she was being mischievous. Leading on the new Guardian. “They never come back.”

“What do you mean, ‘Never come back’?” Ms. Kim took the bait, and Ruby smiled conspiratorially.

“Well, I heard about a boy once who climbed the fence to get his ball. They found him, three days later, on the other side of the fence, just lying there.”

Ms. Kim raised her eyebrows. “Really.”

Ruby nodded solemnly. “He was trying to get back in, but he just couldn’t.”

“I heard about a girl who walked right out the front gate, not long before we got here,” Meg chimed in. “They found her the same way, after three days, right outside the gate. Dead.”

“Huh.” Ms. Kim glanced between them, then back at Dean. “And you believe these stories?”

Dean shrugged. “We’re not supposed to go out of the school grounds,” he said. “It’s against the rules.”

“And you’re all such good little rule-followers,” Ms. Kim suggested, then shook her head as if to clear it. “Never mind. Good game, everyone!”

Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that Ms. Kim was mocking him, and it wasn’t pleasant.

It pleased him even less when he noticed her taking an interest in Sam.

Sam had been different lately. Quiet, withdrawn, sulky and quick to anger. The other students in his year had begun to shun him, tease and make fun of him, and not in a nice way.

“It’s their own damn fault for putting him in middle school two years early,” Ruby muttered when she caught Dean watching as Sam threw another temper-tantrum on the ball-field. “He’s younger and smaller than the rest of them, so of course they tease him.”

“He’s smarter than his whole class put together,” Dean said defensively.

Ruby looked up at him, and her expression wasn’t exactly friendly. “Maybe that’s his problem,” she said. “He needs to try to fit in more, stop being so different from everybody.”

“He’s not different,” Dean insisted. “He’s just special, like the rest of us.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe he needs to learn to be a little less special.”

Dean watched as Ms. Kim spoke quietly to Sam, then walked with him back into the school.

**//**//**

At dinner, Dean got his tray and marched over to Sam’s table. Sam had been sitting alone for months, and of course Dean had noticed. He’d just been a little preoccupied, that’s all. Sex will do that to fourteen-year-old boys.

“Hey,” Dean greeted Sam as he slid onto the opposite bench.

Sam glanced up from his dinner and blushed before lowering his eyes to his tray again. “What are you doing, Dean?”

“Eating dinner with you, bitch.” Dean winked as he reached for his milk carton and tore it open aggressively. “You got a problem with that?”

“What about your friends?” Sam asked. “Why aren’t you sitting with them?”

Dean glanced over at the table where he usually sat, where Ruby and Meg and Lisa sat casting curious looks his way.

“I’m sitting with you,” he said with a shrug, turning his back on the girls. “Besides, they can do without me for one meal. They all need to find boyfriends.”

Sam blushed a deeper shade of red and Dean decided it suited him. It made his beauty marks stand out in a fascinating constellation that made Dean think of stars and uncharted galaxies.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. What did Ms. Kim say to you today? You know, after the ball game.”

Sam looked up with a confused frown that softened into his signature dimpled grin as soon as he met Dean’s eyes. He looked away again immediately, shaking his head.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “She just said I shouldn’t worry about whether I was good at sports or not. She said it didn’t matter.”

“Because you’re so smart,” Dean nodded. “Sports aren’t your thing but that’s okay because you’ll go to college one day. Become a Tutor.”

Sam huffed out a laugh. He couldn’t seem to look at Dean. “I don’t think that’s what she meant,” he said. “She doesn’t know anything about me or my grades yet. She just got here.”

“Right.” Dean nodded. “I just figured she’s been briefed. You know, _before_ she got here. Ms. Emily probably told her all about you. Her best and brightest…”

“Dean.” Sam blushed again, keeping his eyes on his plate as he stirred his peas. “I don’t think they talk about us much. We’re not really that important to them.”

“Maybe not _me,_ ” Dean said. “I’m pretty sure they don’t talk about me. Or Ruby or Lisa or Meg. But you’re special, Sam. You’re grade A college material. You skipped two grades, and in six years, maybe less, you’ll be ready for college. And you’ll go, Sam! Think of that! You’ll go to college! And you’ll meet originals, maybe even pass for one…”

“Dean.” Sam raised his head, really looked at Dean for the first time. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Why not? Oh come on, Sammy. Of course it’ll happen. Of course you’ll go to college.”

“I won’t,” Sam shook his head. Stubborn kid.

“You will if I can help it,” Dean said firmly. “I’m counting on it.”

And just like that, Sam and Dean became inseparable again.

Or, at least mostly inseparable. They ate together and hung out together between classes and during a lot of their breaks and free time, and by the end of the year most of Dean’s friends had learned to accept the younger boy. Sam was tolerated because the girls couldn’t have Dean’s company without Sam’s, too.

Dean still found time to sneak away into the broom closet once in a while, although he turned down every offer from girls his own age or younger. He could tell it made Sam angry and sad, especially when the girl tried to get Dean to go steady with her afterwards. He shrugged it off, insisting that he didn’t want any long-term ties. He didn’t need the hassle.

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em, Sammy,” he laughed as he jostled Sam’s shoulder playfully to get him to lighten up and smile again. “You’re the only girl for me, sweetheart.”

“Shut up,” Sam grumbled, but Dean could tell he was pleased, too.

//**//**//

Over the next two years Ms. Kim continued to take a special interest in Sam. She tutored him privately, something none of the other Guardians had ever done with any of them. At the end of the second year she took a group from Sam’s grade on a field trip into the local town, outside the school, something that terrified Dean, although he only half-believed the stories about students who had been killed just for leaving school grounds.

When Ms. Kim returned with Sam and the others, she marched up to Dean and announced, “Next time, you’re coming, too. I couldn’t get him to focus on anything else. He was missing you too much.”

“Okay,” Dean frowned, not seeing the problem.

Ms. Kim rolled her eyes. “You don’t even get how much this messes with my whole reason for being here, do you?”

“Uh, no?” Dean stared blankly, and Ms. Kim shook her head.

“Never mind,” she said. “Next Monday, nine o’clock.”

It meant skipping class, and Dean wasn’t the best student to begin with, but he wasn’t missing the chance to leave school grounds. Sam was startled and pleased when Dean took his seat in the school’s rusty old van and Ms. Kim announced that Dean was coming along as a chaperone, to help her keep the fourteen-year-olds and one twelve-year-old in line.

In town, the group visited the art museum, traipsing silently after Ms. Kim as they moved from painting to painting. When they reached a room filled with medieval armor and weapons, Dean perked up, especially when Ms. Kim allowed them to try on the heavy chain mail shirt and helmet. She took their pictures with her phone and promised to print them out for their keepsake boxes as soon as they got back to school. Sam and Dean had their picture taken together, Dean wearing the helmet, Sam the armor. Ms. Kim rolled her eyes as Dean draped his arm over Sam’s shoulders and made a goofy face for the camera.

They stopped for lunch at McDonald’s because the museum cafe was too expensive. Dean guessed Ms. Kim was paying for it out of her own pocket, that the school didn’t cover expenses like this.

“You should have the experience of ordering food for yourselves,” Ms. Kim explained as they pulled into the restaurant parking lot. “You’ll all spend time in the outside world eventually, and you’ll need to know how to survive besides just the play-acting that we do at school. Now, I want each of you to look at the menu and decide what you want to eat, then speak clearly and confidently to the order-taker at the counter when you place your order. Can you do that?”

The students nodded obediently, and Dean went first, since he was oldest. “I’ll have a cheeseburger Happy Meal with fries and milk,” he announced to the order-taker.

The order-taker wasn’t much older than Dean, but he made Dean nervous because he was an original. Dean hadn’t realized how terrifying it would be to actually speak to an original; the only ones he’d ever directly spoken to, besides the Guardians, were the deliverers and gardeners who came to the school. It terrified Dean that the boy could tell, that he would know Dean wasn’t real.

But the boy just glanced up at him for a moment before looking down at his ordering pad with a bored nod. “Boy or girl?”

“Excuse me?”

“Boy or girl?” The order-taker looked up expectantly, and when Dean still didn’t understand, he clarified. “Is the Happy Meal for a boy or a girl? The toys are different.”

“Oh!” Dean huffed out a laugh. “Right. I forgot about that part. Boy, I guess.” He made a gesture that he hoped would make the boy laugh, but the kid was already looking down at his ordering pad again.

“Next?”

Dean stepped aside, trying to ignore the humiliation of the little encounter. He squared his chin and glared at Sam, daring him to do better. But of course Sam had been listening intently as Dean ordered, so his order came out perfectly.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger Happy Meal with fries and milk, please,” he told the order-taker. “For a boy.”

The order-taker didn’t even look up this time. “Next?”

Ms. Kim rolled her eyes when the entire group returned to their tables with the exact same order.

“What did I teach you at school?” she scolded. “You’re supposed to try to think for yourselves, not just copy each other. In the outside world, everyone does something different. You’ll stand out if you always copy each other everywhere you go.”

“But we ordered the same as Dean,” Jessica piped up, flipping her long blond hair over her shoulder. “He’s the oldest. Isn’t he supposed to set the example for the rest of us?”

Ms. Kim shook her head. “In the real world, people don’t defer to each other according to age,” she said. “You defer to someone if they’re your leader, or your teacher, but that’s not the same as when you’re in a group of your peers.”

“Isn’t Dean our student leader?” Jessica frowned. “I thought that’s why he came with us this time.”

Ms. Kim opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and obviously changed her mind. “I’m just trying to teach you how to behave when you’re out in the world, after you leave Seven Gables,” she said. “You’ll live in a holding center with older students from other schools, but they won’t be your leaders. You won’t need to defer to them or copy them all the time. Do you understand?”

Jessica nodded, although she still seemed confused.

“Ms. Kim, when we leave Seven Gables, how long will we live in the holding centers?” Ava spoke up.

Ms. Kim shook her head. Dean had a feeling the topic made her uncomfortable.

“It depends,” Ms. Kim said. “Some of you will stay only a year or two before going on to be trained as Carers or infant caregivers.”

“And the rest of us?” Andy prompted.

Ms. Kim took a sip of her drink, some dark bubbly liquid that Dean had never tasted. They’d been taught that soda was bad for their bodies.

“Some clones stay in holding centers for as many as five or six years before they’re needed,” Ms. Kim said, looking down at the table when she spoke, her voice soft. Almost apologetic.

“You mean, before they start to donate,” Ava said.

Ms. Kim gave a slight nod, then looked up, straight at Dean. “You already know all this,” she said. “You’ve been told what happens when you leave Seven Gables. You’ve been told, but you don’t really understand what it all means, do you?”

“All I know is, Sammy’s going to college,” Dean said confidently. “Then he’ll come back to Seven Gables to be a Tutor.”

“If Seven Gables survives that long,” Ms. Kim said grimly.

“What do you mean?” Dean shook his head. “Why wouldn’t it survive?”

Ms. Kim licked her lips, looked down at the table and shook her head. “Some people think it’s too expensive,” she said. “A lot of folks think clones don’t need educations. It’s just wasted on them.”

“That’s not true,” Jessica protested. “Education makes us better Carers. Better caretakers.”

“Basic training provides everything you need to do that,” Ms. Kim said. “A lot of people think your schools should just be training centers. Why teach you about Shakespeare and Emily Dickinson and Sir Isaac Newton? Teaching you about the best humanity has to offer can’t make you better humans. Can’t make you human at all.”

Dean felt indignation rise in his chest, making his cheeks warm.

“That’s not true,” Jessica said again. “Learning about the goodness and beauty in the world helps us understand how important our work is. Knowing all the greatness the human race is capable of gives our lives meaning.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Ms. Kim snapped, suddenly angry. “You really believe the human race that created and enslaved you is worth your sacrifice? You think they care?”

The students were silent, and Dean could feel the tension and doubt in the air around them as they all waited for one of them to say something. Dean became aware of Sam’s thigh pressed against his under the table, and he suddenly had an overwhelming desire to squeeze the boy’s knee, to offer some comfort or reassurance.

But before he could, Ms. Kim pushed her chair back with a harsh scraping sound and got to her feet. 

“You know what? Never mind,” she said, but they could all see she was upset. “You go on believing you’re doing a good thing. Forget I said anything.” She shook her head and took a deep breath as they waited for her to say something more, but all she said then was, “Come on, it’s time to go.”

She sounded defeated.

**//**//**

The drive back to Seven Gables was quiet. They all felt they’d failed some kind of test, disappointed Ms. Kim somehow.

Within a week, she was gone.

Ms. Emily explained that Ms. Kim had found more suitable employment. “She found she wasn’t cut out for the kind of sacrifice required of Seven Gables Guardians,” she said. “Of course we wish her well in her future endeavors.”

Life went on normally after Ms. Kim left, although Dean could feel the ripples of doubt that her presence left in its wake. None of the other Guardians ever suggested taking them on a field trip, and for a while the students who had gone out lorded it over the rest who had not, pretending a confidence and understanding of the outside world that they didn’t really feel.

The truth was, Dean was glad Ms. Kim was gone. She had unsettled him by giving Sam so much attention, by making him feel even more special than he was. Dean had always been Sam’s champion, but Ms. Kim’s interest in the boy had made Dean doubt his own for the first time. It worried him that she might know something about Sam that Dean didn’t, that maybe she could appreciate Sam better than Dean ever could.

It took him a while to shake his unease, but eventually other distractions took over his thoughts. A week before Christmas Ms. Emily announced the annual Christmas Bazaar, when the students were allowed to shop for gifts for each other. Dean grabbed his tokens and stood anxiously with the others at the door as the deliverers brought several boxes into the appointed classrooms and the Guardians unpacked them.

The students were allowed two visits to the Bazaar during the week, and when it was Dean’s turn he took his time walking the aisles, admiring and fingering the collection of treasures, plastic tokens clattering together in his pockets.

On Christmas Day Sam squeezed in next to him in the auditorium, where the middle and high school students were assembled to watch _It’s A Wonderful Life_ on the big screen.

“I got you something,” Sam whispered as he pushed a small package into Dean’s hand. The package was wrapped in newspaper, old and yellowing, and Dean felt a warmth in his chest that almost blocked out his sudden stab of guilt.

“I didn’t get you anything,” he hissed back. “I didn’t have enough tokens.”

“It’s okay,” Sam shrugged and snuggled closer.

**//**//**

Sam’s gift was a brass horned pendant that hung on a long leather cord. Dean slipped it over his head and tucked it inside his shirt, never to take it off again. Sam grinned bashfully when Dean thanked him, and over the next six months Sam’s eyes dropped to Dean’s neck every time they met, just to be sure the cord was still there.

By the time a full year had passed since Ms. Kim left them, Dean felt pretty sure things had returned to normal.

**//**//**

“You know, he’s in love with you,” Ruby said as they huddled under the tree beside the playing field. It was their favorite place to stand together, during breaks from class when it was raining or otherwise too dismal to play ball.

“Who?” Dean was genuinely puzzled, mostly by the masculine pronoun. It wasn’t like he didn’t know boys as well as girls found him attractive; he just hadn’t thought about it very deeply.

‘Sam, of course.” Ruby raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you know?”

Dean flushed to the tips of his ears, lowering his head as if he could hide his embarrassment. “No,” he shook his head. “He’s just a little boy. He’s only thirteen.”

“Yeah, maybe, but that kid knows what’s what,” Ruby insisted. “He understands things. Gives me the creeps, if you want to know the truth, the way he stares at you…” She shivered. “Doesn’t it creep you out?”

“No.” Dean clenched his jaw, raising his eyes to stare across the field, through the drizzle, to where Sam stood under a tree, near a group of eighth-graders. He stood alone, as usual, huddled against the cold with his hands tucked up under his armpits, stamping his feet to keep his small body warm. “No, he doesn’t. At all.”

“Where are you going?” Ruby called after him as Dean jogged across the field, toward the solitary figure on the other side.

“Hey,” Dean greeted the boy as he stepped under Sam’s tree. It didn’t provide quite as much shelter as the one Dean had been standing under with Ruby, but if Dean stepped up close, right into Sam’s personal space, their combined body heat provided some comfort.

“Hey.” Sam’s face split open into his signature dimpled smile, and Dean realized it had been too long since he’d seen it. He’d been too wrapped up with girls. Again.

“You wanna take a walk?”

Sam nodded, but he was sullen as they made their way around the school grounds, silent and withdrawn even when Dean did his best to cheer him up.

“He’s crushing hard,” Ruby told Dean later, when they passed Sam on their way to their eleventh-grade physics class. “He thinks you don’t care.”

Dean couldn’t have that. The next time he found Sam alone on the soccer field he tackled the kid. 

“Come on, Sammy.” Dean crooked an elbow around Sam’s neck and hauled him in, all rough and tumble. “You’ll always be my little brother.”

Sam pulled away, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That’s just it, Dean,” he sulked. “I don’t _want_ to be your little brother. Not _just_ your little brother, anyway.”

“What’re you talking about?” But Dean knew. He’d always known. He just couldn’t admit that to Sam. “There’s nobody I’d rather spend time with, Sammy, I swear.”

At least he could tell Sam that much. Sometimes it surprised Dean just how true it was.

 

\\\\**\\*\\*\\*\\\

Over the next month Dean did his best to deflect Sam’s obvious infatuation. He told himself it would pass; he remembered having feelings toward older boys when he was Sam’s age. It was just a phase.

By the end of the summer, Dean was pretty sure he had the whole thing under control.

The first time he saw Ruby slip her hand into Sam’s while they were standing at morning assembly, Dean saw red.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dean hissed when he found Ruby in the hall later. He wanted to slam her into the wall, shake her till her head wobbled on her scrawny little neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ruby smirked, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder dismissively.

“You and Sam, that’s what I’m talking about,” Dean growled. “What’s going on?”

Ruby shrugged. “He’s cute,” she said. “And last time I checked, he’s available. Am I wrong?”

Dean was so angry he was shaking. “He’s thirteen!”

“You were thirteen when you got your first girlfriend,” she reminded him, although that wasn’t strictly true, since he hadn’t ever really had a girlfriend. But Dean knew what she meant. Ruby assumed he had had sex for the first time when he was thirteen, as she had.

“That’s got nothing to do with it,” Dean snapped. “Sam’s just a kid. He doesn’t even know what he wants yet.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he know what he wants,” Ruby insinuated, hips swaying as she flipped her hair again. “I’ve just gotta convince him he wants it with _me._ ”

“Why are you doing this?” Dean demanded, despair making his heart clench painfully in his chest. “You know you’ll just drop him, like you always do. Why would you hurt him like that?”

Ruby’s smile twisted, turning dark and cruel. “Because I can,” she said simply. “Because it’s the only way I can get _you_ to think about me. And believe me, Dean, I’m going to make you think about me. With him.”

Dean watched her walk away, swinging her hips. Dean’s fists were clenched tight enough to draw blood.

**//**//**

All that fall, Dean watched them together. Sam kept his eyes down all the time when Ruby talked to him, low and close to his ear so no one else could hear. She held his hand everywhere, sliding in next to him at lunch or between classes in the hall. Sam blushed dark red when she pressed her lips to his cheek, rubbed her hand up his back.

But as far as Dean could tell, Sam didn’t return Ruby’s advances. He didn’t pull away, but he never initiated, either. Sam and Ruby didn’t disappear during study hall together, or right after dinner, the way Dean always did when he went off with a girl to have sex. Sam didn’t turn his face to meet Ruby’s lips when she kissed him.

Nevertheless, it hurt. Dean wasn’t sure why it hurt, and he didn’t really want to think about it very deeply. But it did, just as Ruby had promised it would. And even though Dean and Sam still found time to hang out together, Ruby was with them all the time, clinging to Sam as if she couldn’t stand to let him go, even for a minute.

“Why do you let her do that?” Dean asked when they stood side-by-side in the boys’ bathroom, the only room in the school where they could be completely alone, unless another boy walked in.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Sam answered, not even pretending not to know who Dean meant.

“She’s demonic,” Dean said as he shook his dick and tucked it back into his pants. “Don’t trust her, Sammy. She’s just playing a game with you.”

“I know,” Sam sighed as he joined Dean at the sink to wash his hands. “But she keeps the other girls away. And she gets me. She really does. She knows how it feels to be a freak.”

“You’re not a freak,” Dean protested, reaching for the paper towels.

“Yes, I am, Dean,” Sam said solemnly. “We all are. We just don’t like to think about it. It’s like Ms. Kim told us. We’re not human.”

“That’s not true, Sam,” Dean shook his head. “You might not be an original, but you’re just as human as they are. You – You’re special, Sam. You’re smart and talented and you’ll be a Tutor someday. You’ll go to college. You’re better than most humans. Better than me. Definitely too good for _her_.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed pink and he lowered his eyes. “No, I’m not,” he muttered, voice low and miserable. “You don’t even know. The things I want to do sometimes…I get so _angry_. I think about hurting somebody sometimes. Maybe killing them. I’m bad inside, Dean. Twisted and ugly and really, really bad. You’re right to stay away from me.”

“I don’t stay away from you,” Dean insisted, ignoring Sam’s other words because they made no sense. “ _You_ took up with Ruby, not me. It’s never just us anymore because she’s always there. You _chose_ that, Sam. I told you it was always gonna be you and me, man. I told you there was nobody else for me. I meant that, Sammy. I still do.”

“You want me to be your little brother forever, but I can’t,” Sam said fiercely, clenching his jaw and his fists. “I can’t, Dean! When I’m with you I want more. I want to be more than I am. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help it. It’s how I feel! I know it’s dirty. I know you think I can’t be like that because it’s disgusting and creepy, but I am, Dean! I’m a freak! Ruby says you think I have a crush on you, you think I’ll grow out of it, but I won’t! I can’t! So I can’t be with you any more, Dean! I can’t!”

Sam pushed past him then, out the door, leaving Dean standing alone with his mouth hanging open.

When he walked back to class later, he couldn’t look at Sam and Ruby, huddled together in a corner of the hallway, her hands buried deep in his jacket pockets.

He could feel Ruby’s eyes on him, though. He could almost feel her little smile of triumph, too.

**//**//**

Just after Dean’s eighteenth birthday, Seven Gables had a visitor.

Mister, as the students called him, was an important man. Some said he had founded the school. Some said his family had donated the property and had an interest in its success. Some said there was a personal tragedy in his past. Someone he loved had died because cloning donation wasn’t yet an option.

Everyone assumed Mister was old, probably in his sixties or seventies. He had visited the school once or twice since Dean’s arrival, and it was assumed that he had visited the school other times before Dean was created. Seven Gables was said to be at least thirty-five years old, and Mister had been visiting since the beginning.

The students could tell that Mister was coming because the Guardians canceled classes so that all the students could participate in a general clean-up and sprucing up of the buildings and grounds. Hallways were mopped and walls freshly painted. Classrooms were cleaned with heavy-duty cleansers that made the students’ eyes and throats sting. It was the only time the students were allowed to use chemicals of any kind, since inhaling them could cause organ damage, and that was usually forbidden.

The smaller auditorium, the one where the older students gathered for Friday night movies, was repurposed for Mister’s visit into an art gallery. Students’ artwork was carefully displayed on pedestals and in display cases, all the chairs were cleared out so that more art could be hung on walls. The students who were currently preparing theatrical and musical performances were called in to prepare short samples of their productions.

On the morning of Mister’s arrival, the students lined up with their assigned classes. Sam and Dean stood across from each other, on opposite sides of the big assembly hall, awaiting Mister’s entrance, and for once Ruby stood next to Dean, since they were seniors and Sam was only a sophomore. It occurred to Dean that Mister came to inspect the senior class, but only in special years, when the senior class was particularly worthy.

Dean didn’t feel worthy. He wondered why Mister hadn’t waited another two years, till Sam’s class were seniors.

The rumble of a car in the driveway reminded Dean of something. Then he remembered. When Mister had come before, he had driven a sleek, black sedan. A classic, someone said at the time. A 1967 Chevy Impala. The real deal. Kept running all these years by some seriously talented classic-car mechanics who really knew their stuff.

Dean had become fascinated with engines on that day, and it had been his goal and later his job to clean and maintain the machines and engines at the school. He had a knack for it, as he discovered. It was his special talent, Ms. Emily had told him.

He felt a thrill of fear and anticipation, remembering that this sound had started him on a path toward developing the talent that made him special. Maybe that’s why Mister was back; maybe he needed Dean to keep his car running. Maybe that had been his destiny, all along.

Mister barely looked at him when he first walked into the assembly hall.

Of course, to be fair, there were so many faces. Mister didn’t see him because Ruby was on his left and Lisa was on his right and they were both beautiful girls. How could Mister notice him when there were so many others to look at?

When Mister’s eyes met Dean’s it was later, after the first introductions, after the Guardians had all taken their places and Ms. Emily had started her opening remarks. Mister sat stiffly in the place of honor, behind Ms. Emily, and his eyes were on the program in his hands, the one Ruby and Lisa and the others had spent all morning writing and proof-reading and printing. When he looked up, his eyes were tired, sad. Even from the front row, Dean could tell how tired he was. Mister looked like a man who had lost the war, whose whole life had been spent pursuing a cause that ultimately didn’t make any difference after all. Mister looked profoundly defeated.

When his eyes met Dean’s, they skimmed over him at first. Then Mister’s eyes flicked to Dean’s again, and for a moment the world fell away and Dean was looking into the eyes of someone who knew him. Recognized him. Loved him. Mister’s eyes widened, perplexed and clearly disturbed, and Dean watched as Mister moved restlessly in his seat for a moment, lips parting, leaning forward as if he was about to interrupt Ms. Emily to say something.

Mister looked like a man who was ready to stop the world, or at least this school assembly, to make an important announcement.

Dean was special. Dean deserved a deferment.

Then Mister frowned and his gaze flicked away again, back down at the program in his hands, and just like that, Dean knew the moment had passed. The connection Dean had felt wasn’t real after all.

Mister didn’t know him. Mister didn’t care about any of them.

**//**//**

Sam threw a fit on Graduation Day.

All the seniors stood in a line, awaiting their names to be called so they could cross the stage, take their assignments from Ms. Emily, marking the end of their time at Seven Gables.

When it was Dean’s turn he started across the stage with his heart pounding, the sound of blood rushing in his head so loud he almost didn’t hear the commotion on the left side of the room, a few rows back. But he sure heard Sam scream, “No!”

Dean froze mid-step, watched in horror as Sam pushed his way to the stage. “I won’t let you go, Dean! I won’t let you go!”

It took two Tutors and three juniors to tackle Sam and hold him down, then finally drag him out of the assembly hall. Dean watched helplessly, every bone in his body wanting to run toward Sam, to wrestle him away from his captors and gather him into Dean’s arms.

That would be useless. The Tutors would just tackle Dean, too. They would just hold him down and not allow him near Sam, and that wasn’t okay.

So he watched as Sam was dragged from the room, probably off to Ms. Emily’s office to await his punishment for being so disruptive. Outbursts were not tolerated kindly at Seven Gables.

Dean was shaking as he took the paper from Ms. Emily and walked off the stage to take his place next to Ruby.

“What did you get?” Ruby hissed. Her eyes were shining. It was an emotional day for all of them.

Dean uncurled the paper Ms. Emily had given him and his mouth fell open.

_Mechanic. Seven Gables._

Ruby snatched the paper out of his hands, her eyes wide. “You’re _staying_?”

Ruby shared her own assignment, as caretaker-in-training at a holding facility called The Cottages, known for its charm and comfort, located somewhere in the Berkshires. She seemed pleased; getting out into the world to start living a more grown-up, independent life had been Ruby’s highest goal, and she was anxious and excited to get started.

After Ms. Emily gave her final address to the graduates, they were allowed to return to their dorm rooms to retrieve their one small bag of personal belongings. The transports had already arrived to take them to their new homes, so they were given only a few minutes to say goodbye.

Dean hugged each of his friends in turn, congratulating them on their assignments. There was mixed reaction to Dean’s.

“Sucks to be you, man,” Ash quipped as he patted Dean on the back.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Lisa said. “You must be so disappointed.”

But the fact was, he wasn’t. Being assigned a real position was in fact more than he could have hoped, and it sure beat training to be a caretaker or a caregiver, jobs he just didn’t feel he was cut out for.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Ruby said as she hugged him. “I was hoping you’d come with us. Maybe I’d finally get a chance to show you what an angel I can be, if you just give me a chance.”

Neither of them mentioned Sam, or the cruel trick Ruby had played on the boy. Dean wasn’t sure he would ever forgive Ruby for that. It hurt to think about all the lies Ruby had fed Sam over the past year, but in some ways she had made Dean see the truth, too.

Dean did love Sam too much. 

Ruby turned all the way around in the van’s back window, so she could watch as Dean and Seven Gables disappeared behind her.

Dean never saw her again.

//**//**//**//

Dean found Sam huddled in the attic, knees pulled up to his chin, face hidden under a thick mop of dark hair.

“Hey.”

Sam jerked like he’d been given an electric shock. The face he turned up to Dean was streaked with tears, snot, and desperation. He looked like someone who had witnessed the end of the world and wished he hadn’t survived.

 _Fuckin’ kid,_ Dean muttered inside his head.

“They benched me,” Dean said, flashing a grin he hoped wasn’t too joyous.

Sam stared at him wordlessly for another minute, then shook his head. “What?”

“Yeah,” Dean slid to his knees in front of Sam, then scooted into the almost-non-existence space next to him, so that they were pressed together from shoulder to ankle. “I guess I’m not good enough to leave this place. They want me to stay.”

 _I_ want you to stay, Dean wished Sam would say, but Sam didn’t. Instead, he scrambled to his feet, away from Dean, his face full of confusion and anger.

“You – you can’t be serious,” Sam choked out, struggling to get some control over whatever the fuck had just happened. “That never happens.”

“Yeah, well, I guess it did, for once,” Dean said, fighting his sudden self-doubt. Maybe the Guardians _had_ made a mistake. Maybe he wasn’t really supposed to stay.

Then Dean recalled Sam’s earlier emotional reaction to his leaving and he lost all self-restraint.

“Sam,” Dean said, trying to convey his joy, his sheer pleasure in Sam’s presence. “I think this was the way it was supposed to be. I think you and me were supposed to stay together. Maybe – maybe my real purpose is to watch over you.”

Sam clenched his fists, shifted from foot to foot. “Till when, Dean?” he demanded. “Till I leave here? What then? Are you supposed to come with me? Because that’s never happened, either. Students never leave with any other classmates but their own. So what then? I’ll go with Jake and Lily and Ava and you’ll just, what? Tag along?”

“You’re going to college, Sam,” Dean reminded him. “So you can come back here as a Tutor.”

“Even Tutors donate eventually,” Sam snapped. “You know that.”

“Yeah, but not for a long time,” Dean insisted. “Longer than anybody. John and Mary have been here almost ten years.”

Sam shook his head, sucked in a breath and clenched his teeth, fighting against his own frustration. Dean wished he could hug him, make him feel better. He was still feeling high from his assignment and he wanted Sam to feel it, too. This was good for them. It was.

“You don’t get it,” Sam said, wiping new tears from his face with an angry gesture. “You just don’t get it, Dean.”

“What don’t I get, Sam?” Dean was getting irritated. This was not going the way he thought it would. “I thought you didn’t want me to go. Did I get that wrong? Cuz you sure made a scene in assembly, in front of everybody. But if that’s not what you meant, then my bad, Sam. Guess I got the wrong assignment after all.”

“No,” Sam shook his head. “No, that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what the hell _do_ you mean, Sammy? What the hell’s going on with you?”

Sam took a deep breath, lifted his eyes to Dean’s face, and smiled. It was the saddest thing Dean had ever seen.

“You know, when I woke up this morning and I knew you’d be leaving today? All I could think about was, ‘now I’ll never get to kiss him.’ How selfish is that? Here you were, going off to some holding center to wait till you were old enough to donate your vital organs and die in some hospital somewhere, and all I could think about was that I’d never know what it felt like to kiss you. How lame am I, huh? How stupid.”

Dean’s chest flooded with warmth. Before he could second-guess himself he rose smoothly to his feet in front of Sam, holding his gaze as the boy’s eyes widened. Dean reached for him, cradling his face carefully, and Sam held perfectly still, parting his lips a little as Dean kissed him. Sam’s mouth was salty with tears, his cheeks smooth and damp. Dean kissed him softly, chaste and tender, and when he felt Sam’s tongue flicking against his lips he pulled back, breaking the kiss. He left his hands on Sam’s face another minute, long enough for Sam to open his eyes.

“Okay?” Dean said, swiping his thumb across the apple of Sam’s cheek, wiping the tears away.

Sam was trembling, blinking up at Dean with shining eyes, but he managed to nod. Dean smiled, reassuring, although he was feeling a little unsteady as he stepped back, let Sam go.

“Okay then,” Dean said. “Let’s get you cleaned up and back to class or wherever you’re supposed to be.”

**//**//**

Dean couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.

He’d kissed dozens of girls hundreds of times, but he never thought about it afterwards.

Until now.

Of course, Sam wasn’t just another girl. Dean had already acknowledged to himself that Sam was the most important person in his life. He loved Sam. Even though the Guardians had subtly insisted that clones couldn’t feel strong emotions, that they were only capable of living life in a muted, faded way, Dean felt intensely where Sam was concerned. He just did.

Ruby had known. It was what made her so jealous and spiteful, Dean realized. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t care for Ruby as much as he did for Sam. It was that he could feel so strongly about _anyone_. Ruby had been jealous of Dean’s ability to love.

For the next month or so, Dean was absorbed with his new duties as school mechanic. He fixed the Guardians’ cars, kept the air-conditioners in their offices working, replaced parts in the old stoves and refrigerators in the kitchen. Ms. Emily wanted him to learn to drive, so he could run errands into town for them, so John became his driving Tutor. Dean and John spent every afternoon for a week practicing before they went into town to get his driver’s license.

After passing the test on his first try, Dean began making regular trips into town, first just for parts and tools, but within the month Dean was running other errands as well. He liked getting out on the open road, even if just for the thirty minutes it took to drive into Lawrence. It gave him a feeling of freedom he’d never known.

“You like to drive,” Sam accused when he met Dean returning from one of his errands, plastic bags of groceries and other sundries hanging off his fingers.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, grinning because he couldn’t help himself. “I do.”

Sam had been running, playing soccer with his classmates, and his cheeks were flushed, his hair wild and sticking to his forehead. He was beginning to grow some muscle, and his arms and legs were getting tan in the Kansas sun.

He looked beautiful.

Dean was a little startled by that observation; he’d never associated beauty with a boy before. He wasn’t sure why his stomach was fluttering at the sight of Sam all sweaty and panting from exertion, but there was no mistaking the little twitch in his pants that told him it had been too long since he’d had sex.

Now that his classmates were gone, the only options for sex were younger students, and Dean had never found that idea palatable. He felt like a big brother to all of them.

Sammy was different.

“Take me for a ride later?” Sam was asking, and Dean realized he’d been staring. Maybe salivating. He slammed his mouth shut and looked up. Of course Sam had a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips, dimples showing adorably. Like he _knew,_ the bitch.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said, his voice coming out breathy and stuttering, making him blush.

 _Sam is not a potential sexual partner,_ he scolded himself.

But Dean’s body had other ideas.

“Cool,” Sam nodded. “I’ll go shower and change.”

And now Dean was thinking about Sam naked. Great.

//**//**//

Dean chickened out and hid in the shed for the rest of the afternoon, working on the lawn-mower. He knew Sam was out looking for him, saw him through the shed window, standing over by the garage, looking around with a puzzled look on his face.

Dean knew he should man up and admit he couldn’t stand to be near Sam right now. He needed to figure out what the hell was going on. He couldn’t have sex with Sam; sex was something Dean had only ever had with people he didn’t care that much about. It was only for kicks. Sam was special. Sam was important. Sam could get hurt and it would be Dean’s fault and Dean couldn’t stand for that.

He managed to eat his dinner in the kitchen that night, with the kitchen staff, all clones like himself but from different growing centers. That’s what the staff called them, anyway, glancing nervously at Dean as he ate alone in a corner. None of the clones from other places ever spoke to the students. They didn’t seem to know what to make of Dean; former students never stayed on at Seven Gables, and although he was now technically one of them, they clearly thought of him as part of the school. Privileged. Special. The staff were just grateful for their jobs, as much as they resented and feared the students and Tutors. The Guardians were beyond reproach, of course, being originals.

Dean had tried to befriend one or two staffers during his first week, but he’d been met with stony silence followed by giggling and rustling whispers when he finally gave up and turned away.

“Don’t bother,” John had told him during Dean’s driving lessons. “They come from the worst possible places. Usually, clones from their centers end up donating first, sometimes as children, when they’re needed. They just want to be here as long as they can. They won’t talk to you because they’re afraid of drawing attention to themselves. It’s useless to try to get them to say anything, even harder to get any of them to trust one of us.”

So Dean ate his meals alone most of the time, since he no longer belonged in the student dining room.

After dinner he snuck up the back stairs to his room and almost stumbled headlong into Sam, who was standing quietly in a corner of the hallway outside his room.

“Jesus, Sam! What are you doing here?” Dean backed into the wall as Sam emerged from the shadows, the angles of his face in sharp relief. Dean was struck again by Sam’s natural beauty; how he’d never noticed it before when it was right there in front of him he’d never know.

“You said we could go for a ride,” Sam pouted. “You said you’d take me.”

“Jesus, Sam, I didn’t think you meant _today_ ,” Dean lied. “I meant, sometime I’ll take you, sure. Although you know it’s against the rules, right? You’re not supposed to leave the school grounds.”

“So?” Sam frowned. “Why should I follow their rules anyway? They just want to keep us in line until it’s time for us to die.”

“That’s not right, Sam, and you know it,” Dean shook his head. “What we do is the most important thing in the world. We save people.”

“You believe that?” Sam scoffed, advancing on Dean so that he found himself pressed flat against the wall, watching Sam with a mixture of dread and anticipation. “You really believe what we do is a _good_ thing?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, his voice shaking only a little. “Yes, I do. We’re heroes, Sam, just like Ms. Emily says.”

Sam was so close now, their chests were almost touching. Dean had nowhere to go, and the problem wasn’t that he needed to get away. The problem was, he needed to be closer.

“Let’s get out of here,” Sam said, his eyes shining fever-bright in his thin, angular face. “Let’s just do it.”

Dean swallowed hard, trying to push his ass into the plaster behind him in a last-ditch effort to hide his raging erection. “Okay,” he choked out, reaching behind him blindly, grasping the doorknob to his room. “Come on.”

Sam’s eyes widened, then darkened as he figured out that Dean had misunderstood him completely. But Dean was already too far gone, too committed. He lurched awkwardly into his room as Sam crowded in behind him. They were on each other almost before the door closed, grabbing at each others’ bodies, mouthing at each other’s faces, desperate to do what Dean now realized he’d been waiting to do all his life. He needed Sam like he needed air; he couldn’t even remember a time when that wasn’t true.

Sam was whimpering, moaning and whining and shoving his hands under Dean’s shirt, biting his jaw, his collarbone, trying to drop to his knees in front of Dean but Dean wasn’t having it.

“No,” he gasped. “No, Sam. You don’t need to do that.”

“Want to,” Sam whined, grasping handfuls of Dean’s back through his shirt, kneading his ass through his jeans. “Want you to fuck me, Dean. Want you to own me.”

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, tipping his head back to get some air, to try to clear his head.

 _This boy is only fourteen,_ his brain told him, and he wanted to cry.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam sobbed against his neck, sucking and licking at his collarbone. “I want this. I’ve always wanted this. Only you, Dean, I swear. I only ever wanted you like this.”

“Ah, fuck,” Dean moaned.

“I’m still a virgin, Dean,” Sam babbled. “I waited for you. You’re the only one I ever wanted.”

“Heard you the first time,” Dean groaned, running his hands through Sam’s lustrous hair because how could he not? The boy was made for him. It was so obvious Dean could feel the tears slipping down his cheeks. How had he never understood this before? How had he not seen it?

“I never wanted a boy before,” Dean gasped as Sam sucked on his collarbone. _Jesus._

“I know,” Sam drew in a shuddering breath as he slipped his hands up, cupping Dean’s face tenderly. “It’s okay, Dean. This is how it’s supposed to be for us. It’s okay.”

“You’re only fourteen.” Dean’s eyes widened as he looked down at Sam. The boy’s cheeks were flushed and wet with tears, and Dean dipped his head to kiss them without even thinking about it.

“With you, I’m older,” Sam said softly. “I swear. I don’t understand it, but I’m so old with you.”

“Okay,” Dean said, seeing something in Sam’s beautiful face that convinced him. “Okay. But I’m not going to hurt you. I can’t hurt you.”

“I know,” Sam nodded, desperate and wise simultaneously, so that Dean felt like he was looking at a soul that had lived before, many times before, although later he couldn’t remember where that thought came from.

“Okay,” Dean said again, cupping Sam’s face carefully, gently. He swiped his thumb along Sam’s soft lower lip before leaning in to kiss it. “Okay.”

**//**//**

Sex with Sam was a revelation. Dean had read about characters who “made love” in books, but he’d never experienced it before.

Of course, the first time, it was over before it started. They were too hot for each other, and they were teenagers. But after they took off their soiled clothes and washed, they laid down on Dean’s bed together and took their time. Dean kissed down Sam’s hairless chest, pushed his arms up over his head and kissed along the underside of each one, where the skin was particularly soft and tender. He kissed up the long column of Sam’s throat, sucking on his adam’s apple like it was a ripe fruit. He smoothed his hand down Sam’s belly to cup his balls, gently rolling them between his fingers as Sam moaned and writhed and got hard again.

It felt strange to hold another boy’s dick. It was like doing it to himself. Dean knew what he liked, knew how to touch and pull and twist just so, and when he lowered his mouth to the leaking head of Sam’s dick, he knew how that felt, understood exactly how unbearably good it was. Sam whined and cried out and came hard a second time, muttering, “Sorry, sorry,” as he released a mouthful of salty fluid into Dean’s mouth.

Dean swallowed like a champ, wondering what the fuss had been when Lisa made a face and refused to do it.

He let Sam push him over onto his back so Sam could return the favor, all sweet inexperience and desperation. Sam rolled him over and licked tentatively at his hole, then stabbed his tongue inside as Dean moaned and shivered. No girl had ever done _that_ before.

“Touch yourself,” Dean gasped, wrapping his hand around his own dick.

They came simultaneously with Sam’s tongue in Dean’s hole, and Dean didn’t want to think too hard about why he liked that so much. He’d heard of anal sex before, of course, but never read or seen anything explicit about any other kind of sex than the traditional heterosexual missionary style kind. It wasn’t forbidden, exactly, but Dean had the feeling it was one of those practices that was discouraged because of the potential for disease or damage. The Guardians were so careful about that.

Although, since they were all checked regularly for any sign of anything wrong, the possibility of sexually transmitted diseases or even simple infection was practically zero.

Maybe the Guardians were simply prudes. They _were_ old. At least forty, most of them. Maybe they didn’t have sex.

“They don’t know what they’re missing,” Dean mused as he lay with Sam later, sated and sleepy. He pushed the hair back from Sam’s forehead so he could study his face better, memorizing every line and angle, his constellation of beauty marks. The slope of his nose and curve of his lips. The slant of his eyes and curl of his eyelashes.

Dean was well on the way to obsession, but somehow it wasn’t a bad thing after all. Being in love wasn’t what the books said. It wasn’t something that hit him suddenly, out of left field, the first time he laid eyes on Sam. It had grown naturally, gradually, over the years since that first day. His love for Sam had evolved, had changed and grown as Sam grew.

“Hmmm,” Sam cuddled closer, turning his face into Dean’s palm, keeping his eyes closed so that he seemed asleep, trusting, like when he was the small child Dean used to comfort after a nightmare.

“Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you,” Dean promised, just as he had back then. “Not while I’m around.”

**//**//**

"You should stop taking the pills," Sam said one morning as they were getting dressed.

It was almost a month later, and Sam and Dean were a couple. The Guardians seemed to accept it, allowing Sam to sleep in Dean's tiny bedroom over the garage. The other students shunned Sam anyway; Dean caught their jealous glares from time to time, but they seemed to know to leave Sam alone. 

Which was a good thing, since Dean would have punched their little sixteen-year-old noses if they'd laid a finger on his little brother-turned-lover.

But mostly, Dean was happy. Probably the happiest he'd ever been, in fact. Except that Sam kept saying things that were a little disturbing.

"What are you talking about?" Dean shook his head.

"The pills make us docile," Sam explained.

"In English, nerd-brain."

Sam sighed. "The pills make us more cooperative," he said. "They dull our emotions so we can't get angry and rebel against them for what they're doing to us."

"How do you know?" Dean demanded. "I thought they were just vitamins."

"Ms. Kim told me," Sam said. "She told me what they were, what they do. So I looked it up, and she was right. I stopped taking mine over a year ago."

"So that's why you're such a pain in my ass," Dean quipped with a wink as he tied his shoes.

"It's not funny, Dean," Sam protested. "You should stop taking them."

Dean glanced up at the bottle of little white pills on his bedside table. He'd been taking one every morning for as long as he could remember, since he was so little an adult caregiver had to hold the water cup for him.

He looked up at Sam, dressed in his school uniform with his unruly dark hair brushed carefully so it lay almost neatly, temporarily tucked behind his ears. Dean knew it would fall back into his face before the morning was half over, and the thought of Sam sitting at his school-desk with his hair framing his sweet face made Dean's chest warm.

"Okay," he said, surprising himself. Sam had him wrapped around his little finger, but he didn't mind. He liked it that way.

**//**//**

“We should just keep driving,” Sam said the first time Dean took him out in the car. “Never turn back.”

It had taken some doing to convince Ms. Emily to allow Sam to ride along when Dean drove into town for supplies. She didn’t trust Sam, Dean could see it in her eyes. She knew he had been close with Ms. Kim, and Dean imagined that had something to do with it. Sam had always been a challenge. From Ms. Emily’s perspective, Sam was the brilliant, difficult rebel child she could never quite control. She counted on Dean to keep Sam grounded, to keep him from flying off the handle.

Or from flying out the door.

“That’s a great idea, Sam,” Dean snapped. “And when they catch us and send us to the closest holding center? Separately and behind bars?”

“I’m going to find a way to deactivate our bracelets,” Sam answered firmly. The Guardians made them all wear bracelets that monitored their vital signs at all times. The bracelets automatically kept track of them, registered when they entered or left their assigned living quarters, followed their movements by satellite. “When I figure it out, we’ll deactivate everybody at the school. We’ll save them all.”

Dean didn’t doubt for a minute that Sam could do that. It was only a matter of time.

**/**//**

“We’ll have a boat,” Dean said dreamily one rainy afternoon when they lay in his bed, lazy and rested after sex and a nap. “We’ll sail around the world.”

Sam smiled against his shoulder. “I’ll be the captain.”

“No, you’ll be my first mate, bitch,” Dean corrected, shifting slightly so that Sam was tucked under his arm, against his chest. “We’ll fish for our food and stop over for days at a time on tropical islands. There’ll be beautiful topless women with long black hair, all eager to make us feel welcome. Maybe I’ll let you have one.”

“Jerk,” Sam turned his face into Dean’s chest and took his nipple between his teeth, making Dean hiss.

**//**//**

They talked about escaping, running away, living on the road together, almost every day. It was their favorite shared fantasy, and one of Dean’s favorite things to do on lazy mornings when they didn’t have to get up to go anywhere. Lying in bed, fingers twined, watching the sun filter into Dean’s cramped little room, talking about their imaginary future together – this was fast becoming one of Dean’s best memories.

Part of him knew it couldn’t ever come true, of course.

Part of Dean understood that eventually, he would be lying in a hospital recovering from a donation, waiting until he was well enough to donate again, maybe for the last time. When that happened, he wanted to remember those moments when he lay quietly with Sam, dreaming about a future they could never have.

Dean also understood that for Sam, the fantasy was much more serious. He had spent the past two years researching ways to get them out, learning everything he could about the system that held them captive. Sam was on a mission, and he couldn’t be stopped, even if Dean told him to stop, which he had no intention of doing anyway.

“I won’t watch you die, Dean,” Sam told him when Dean first teased him about it. “You’re older than I am so they’ll take you first, and I can’t let that happen.”

Dean never doubted that Sam could figure out a way to escape. He just didn’t think it could happen. He believed in _Sam_ , just not in his own salvation. They were clones, created for one purpose, and ultimately their purpose would be fulfilled. It was just the way it was. At least Dean wouldn’t be around to see Sam make his first donation. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he didn’t care. He was helping Sam buy as much time as any clone could ever hope for. Sam becoming a Tutor was Dean’s mission in life. It was the best he could do.

**//**//**

For Sam's fifteenth birthday, Dean took him into town for a birthday dinner at Pat’s Diner, just the two of them.

"When we hit the road, we'll eat at these kinds of places all the time," Dean said as he studied his menu. "These places are classic. They used to make them out of old railroad cars."

Sam scowled at the menu and bit his bottom lip, making Dean want to kiss him.

"This food has enough grease in it to clog every artery in your body fifty times over," Sam complained.

“I thought you gave up on keeping yourself healthy,” Dean reminded him, and Sam made a face.

“I’m not giving them my organs.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m keeping them. I want to live to be eighty, the way people used to do.”

“Eighty’s old, man.” Dean shook his head. “Better to die young, leave a beautiful corpse.”

“Ew! No! God, Dean, you’re so gross,” Sam complained as the waitress arrived to take their order.

“I’ll have a bacon-double-cheeseburger, extra onions, with curly fries,” Dean told her. “He’ll have a salad with a side of self-righteous, please.”

Dean had had a little experience ordering food since that first nerve-wracking performance four years before. He’d gotten good at it, and after the first few times blushing and stammering through his order, he’d come to understand that most waitresses couldn’t tell he wasn’t human. They were too busy noticing how good-looking he was.

It gave him confidence. Then it made him cocky.

Being able to pass as human in the outside world was a kind of drug, he realized. It made him high.

It also made him horny. He couldn’t help flirting with the waitress, despite the cloudy look it put on Sam’s face. Sam was cute when he pouted, and even cuter when he scowled and rolled his eyes. Getting a rise out of Sammy was definitely Dean’s favorite sport.

“When we go on the road, we’re heading south first,” Dean announced as the waitress left to fill their order.

“Why south?” Sam frowned.

“We were both born in Texas, Sammy. If we want to find our originals, that’s the best place to start.”

They had had several conversations about finding their personal originals, the men they were modeled on. It was a topic that caused Sam more than a little anxiety.

“I don’t think my original was a very good person.” Sam shook his head. “I don’t want to meet him.”

“Sure you do, Sam,” Dean teased. “And I definitely want to meet him. I want to see what you’ll look like when you’re old.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We don’t even know if he’s still alive,” he said. “Originals die eventually, too.”

Dean shook his head. “He’s still alive,” he said confidently. “You said the cloning project only started about sixty years ago.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “But if he was already old then…”

“Sammy, your original is a brilliant man. I’m sure he’s figured out a way to keep himself alive. He’s probably fabulously wealthy, successful, maybe famous…”

“Not famous,” Sam shook his head. “I’ve looked for his face in every book and magazine in the library. He’s not famous.”

“Gorgeous, though,” Dean winked, and Sam blushed and grinned bashfully as Dean kicked him lightly under the table.

The waitress arrived with their food and they dug in, each lost in his own thoughts for a few moments.

“Don’t you wonder about yours?” Sam asked finally. “Your original, he’s somebody special, I bet.”

Dean recalled the way Mister looked at him on the day he visited Seven Gables. It occurred to Dean, not for the first time, that Mister had recognized him. Dean had looked like somebody Mister had known. That’s why he’d stared at Dean with so much love and sadness.

“I think Mister might know him,” Dean said tentatively, and Sam looked up sharply.

“Really? What makes you say that?”

Dean shrugged, suddenly shy. “I don’t know,” he said, keeping his eyes on his food. “Just instinct. Mister looked at me funny the last time, that’s all. It’s probably nothing.”

“How come you never told me about that?” Sam seemed genuinely surprised, and Dean could tell his brain was already working the problem, considering all the possibilities.

“I just did,” Dean shrugged. “Didn’t think it mattered before. At the time, I was kinda hoping it meant he’d let me take care of his car.”

“His car?” Sam frowned, then nodded as the memory came back to him. “Oh yeah. That classic car he drives. She’s a beauty, all right.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I wouldn’t mind getting a look under her hood, that’s for sure.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “Did you just threaten to cheat on me? On my birthday? With a car?”

Dean laughed out loud as Sam pretended to scowl and the tension between them dissipated.

“How about some dessert for you boys?” the waitress interrupted, and Dean had to appreciate her timing.

Sam shook his head. “Nothing for me, thank you,” he said shyly. Being out in the world, ordering food at a diner, was still new to Sam, still made him blush and squirm nervously.

Dean loved him for it.

“I’ll have a big ol piece of your best pie,” Dean said, winking at Sam, which made the boy blush harder.

“You got it,” the waitress smiled, then frowned playfully at Sam. “You sure you don’t want anything, honey? I could bring you a fork so you could share your brother’s pie.”

The look on Sam’s face was priceless. “How does she know we’re brothers?” He hissed as soon as she left to fetch the pie.

“She doesn’t,” Dean chuckled. “She’s just guessing.”

“Huh,” Sam nodded thoughtfully. “You know, only rich people get organ transplants. People who make minimum wage or don’t have health insurance are out of luck.”

They both watched the waitress as she moved around the room, filling coffee cups and smiling at customers.

“She’s just like us, then,” Dean shrugged, taking a sip of his water. “Shit out of luck.”

“Not really,” Sam shook his head. “Being human means you have options. She can marry someone who has health insurance, or she could inherit a million dollars, or just go back to school and get a degree and a better job.”

“I guess,” Dean shrugged again.

“She won’t, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t. She’s grateful she lives in a land of opportunity where she can get the best health care if she just puts her mind to it. She would never vote to have that option taken away. None of them would. Even the ones that never get to benefit from it.”

Now Sam was being morbid again.

“I’ll bet she never goes to college,” Dean said, suddenly needing to burst Sam’s bubble. “I’ll bet she ends up pregnant, without a husband, and she has to raise the kid by herself because she has a sister who let her boyfriend abuse her kids and she won’t let that happen. So she’s alone forever, raising the kid, investing everything in it. She works at the diner, she takes double shifts at the gas station. Eventually, she gets cancer but she can’t afford treatment. She doesn’t tell the kid because she doesn’t want him to worry, since he’s almost eighteen and ready to live on his own. She uses every ounce of strength to make it to the day he graduates from high school, and she’s right there, in terrible pain because she can’t afford the pain meds, but she’s there. She tells him she loves him. Then that night she dies in her sleep, age forty-five.”

Sam stared, shaking his head a little. The waitress arrived at that moment to put the pie in front of Dean, and when she handed Sam a fork and winked at him, he actually smiled back, dimples making his whole face light up.

“You boys need anything else?” she asked, and Dean shook his head, giving her his warmest smile.

“No, we’re fine,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re a poet, Dean,” Sam said after Dean took a bite of the pie, relishing the taste on his tongue before swallowing it. Food like this was forbidden at Seven Gables, and he’d quickly developed a taste for it now that he had the freedom to eat in town. On his meager pay, it wasn’t like he was going to get sick on fried food and high calorie desserts, but it was a treat he looked forward to more than he could admit to anyone except Sam.

“What?” Dean frowned. “No, I’m not. I couldn’t come up with a line of poetry if you held a gun to my head.”

“You just did,” Sam said fondly, shaking his head. “You do it all the time.”

Dean shook his head dismissively and set his sights on his pie.

**//**//**

The rest of that year passed remarkably well. Sam took his SATs and scored so high the college applications began pouring in. Dean helped him complete the applications, selected with help from John and Mary, who had both attended the local university right there in Lawrence. In the spring just before Sam’s sixteenth birthday, acceptances started coming in from colleges and universities all over the country.

“You’ve got your pick, Sam,” Dean crowed as they poured over the acceptance packages. “You can go anywhere you want.”

“Well, not anywhere,” Sam reminded him. “It’s got to be somewhere the Guardians will approve.”

“Of course they’ll approve, Sam!” Dean was floored. “You’ll go wherever you want! How about Harvard, huh? They want you! Stupid big expensive East Coast Ivy League school thinks you’re the bee’s knees, Sammy boy! What do you say?”

“I’m not going to Harvard,” Sam shook his head.

“Why not?” Dean was genuinely surprised. It hadn’t occurred to him that Sam would say no to the top school in the country.

“The Guardians will never allow it,” Sam said quietly. “It’s too conspicuous.”

“What?” Dean stared. “It’s prestigious, Sam! Good for Seven Gables! One of our own gets into Harvard, gets a Harvard degree…”

“That’s just it, Dean,” Sam said, looking sad and defeated. “They’ll never let me go.”

Now it was Dean’s turn to stare. It was late in the evening, after they were done with work and chores and school, and Dean had put off the opening of the envelopes because he thought it would be a happy occasion. He thought it would put that beautiful dimpled smile on Sam’s face that Dean loved more than life itself.

“Of course they’ll let you go, Sam,” Dean said, but Sam wasn’t looking at him anymore.

Later, when they made love, Dean was tender, appreciative. Sam was more amazing than all those colleges could possibly understand. Dean was sure the Guardians would see the value in that. Sam was their shining star, a beacon of brilliant hope for all their kind.

And wasn’t that what Seven Gables had been founded for? Wasn’t that what the school aspired to?

Dean didn’t realize until later that those were their golden times, those months and years before Sam was admitted to Harvard, and Yale, and Stanford. Everything that came later was a dim reflection of the future Sam could never have.

Years later, Dean realized that was the turning point. That night was the end of everything he’d always believed in.

It was also the beginning of something new, something he and Sam forged together, apart from Seven Gables. It was the year when Dean first began to believe that Sam was right.

They had to get the hell out.

**//**//**

 

The University of Texas at Austin was over a day’s drive from Lawrence. John assured them it was a good choice, one that the Guardians could easily approve. It made sense, since Dean and Sam had both started their lives in Texas, so it was essentially their “home” state. The university was a big place where they could stay easily under the radar, mostly unnoticed.

Of course, Sam would ace every class and graduate with honors at the top of his class, but it was better to do it at a state school than at Harvard or Stanford. Less noticeable. Less outstanding.

When Dean saw the defeated expression on Sam’s face after he left Ms. Emily’s office it almost broke him. He wanted to march into Ms. Emily’s office and demand she let Sam go to one of those top schools, just to take that look off Sam’s face.

Sam had been looking forward to this moment all his life. He had worked hard for it, actually accomplished the impossible, done something no clone had ever done, yet he was being deliberately held back. It was deeply unfair, and Dean felt the sting of Sam’s disappointment as if it were his own failure, as if it was somehow his fault that this had happened to Sam.

“It’s really for the best, guys,” John assured them. “If Sam went to Harvard, he’d draw too much attention. The school could get closed down.”

To make matters worse, Sam’s admission would be deferred for a year, so that he wasn’t noticeably younger than the other freshmen. He would need to “pass” at college, and John was assigned to teach him exactly how to do that, to make sure Sam could lie with the best of them.

“I had a whole backstory about my life,” John explained when they sat together in the teacher’s lounge the day after graduation. Neither Sam nor Dean had ever been in that particular room, since it was off-limits to students and most staffers except the cleaning crew. Now that school was out, many of the Guardians had gone home to their families for the summer. Summer school hadn’t yet started, so the students were left mostly to themselves.

Sam had waved goodbye to his classmates that morning, watching Ava and Jake and Jessica and the others as they boarded the vans that would take them off to holding centers all over the country, never to be seen again.

“Did you make it up?” Dean asked.

“No, Ms. Emily fed it to me,” John explained. “I was supposedly born in Seattle, which was easy because that’s where my infant center was. They sent Mary with me, since we were already a couple.”

“Didn’t Mary go to college, too?” Sam seemed surprised.

“No,” John shook his head, smiling. “They couldn’t afford for both of us to go. Mary learned right along with me, though. She read the same books, read my notes, snuck into lectures and sat in the back. She was a better student than I was, to be honest.”

“So they’ll send Dean with me,” Sam clarified, as if there had been any question.

Dean could see now that Sam had doubted that, and it made his chest hurt.

John glanced at Dean, then back at Sam. “I’m pretty sure they will, yeah,” he nodded. “They’ll want you to keep to yourself while you’re there, not get too close to any originals. It can get damn lonely, to be honest. You’ll be glad he’s with you. Plus, he’ll be your excuse not to form other attachments. They really don’t want us mixing too much. They’re afraid we’ll slip up and give away what we are, and that’ll be the end of the whole program.”

“But the program isn’t very big to begin with, is it?” Sam asked. “I mean, we’re the only school that sends graduates to college, aren’t we?”

John’s gaze turned dark and he lowered his voice, speaking softly and carefully, as if he was afraid of being overheard. “We’re the only school, period, Sam. The other growing centers are just farms for underaged clones. Most originals don’t want to know about us. They don’t like to think about us.”

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, and Sam said, “How do you know?”

“There are libraries and databases at college,” John said. “You can research the hell out of the whole cloning project, if you want. I can only tell you because you’re going to college, but the fact is, this school is an experiment. There’s growing controversy about its mere existence. Originals don’t want to think about clones who are smart and educated, maybe smarter and more educated than many of them. They already fear us. Finding out some of us actually go to college might be the last straw.”

Dean felt a shiver go up his spine. He couldn’t help asking the question had been bothering him for a while now. “Why did Mister found this school, if there was so much opposition to it?”

John smiled. “There wasn’t, in the beginning. There were all kinds of schools and care-centers, when the cloning project first started. Originals lined up to volunteer as caregivers, teachers, foster parents. Some families even adopted baby clones to raise as their own. Mister was one of the first big supporters of the project.”

“But now our school’s the last one, and Mister is getting old,” Sam said, keeping his voice soft to match John’s.

John lifted his eyes to Sam and regarded him silently for a moment before he nodded. “That’s right, Sam. We’re the last bastion. The final beacon.”

**//**//**

The next morning, John and Mary were gone.

It took Sam and Dean a while to figure out what had happened. At first they didn’t notice, since in their daily chores they rarely crossed paths with the Tutors. It was nearly the end of the day when Sam came running into the garage where Dean was working under one of the Guardians’ cars.

“They’re gone,” Sam gasped, short of breath and overwhelmed with emotion. “The van came and took them this morning, before we got up. They’re gone!”

“What are you talking about?” Dean scooted out from beneath the car, grabbing a rag to wipe his greasy hands.

Sam was shaking, his tall, lanky body positively quivering with energy and anxiety. “John and Mary,” he said. “They’re gone.”

Dean felt cold suddenly, like he’d walked into a freezer. It was a warm day, but somehow Sam’s words sucked all the heat out of it. He reached a hand up and Sam hauled him to his feet, and Dean stared straight into Sam’s eyes, struck again by how much Sam had grown over the past two years so they were now practically even in height. Sam was sixteen but getting taller every day. Dean didn’t doubt he’d be the tallest beanpole Dean had ever met one day.

“Okay,” Dean nodded, blinking a little too rapidly because it suddenly felt like he’d gotten something in his eye. “It’s just their time, Sammy, that’s all. They’ve been here almost ten years, longer than all the other Tutors. It’s just their time.”

Sam drove his hands into his hair, grit his teeth and made a low guttural sound that was more like an animal in pain than a human being. “I hate them!”

“Sammy…” Dean stepped forward as Sam clutched his hair and pulled hard, forcing another low, guttural sob from his throat.

“I’m gonna kill them all!” Sam sobbed, tears spilling forth, down his cheeks. “I’m gonna take a gun, and I’m gonna learn how to use it, and them I’m gonna start killing every goddamn one of them!”

“Sammy, shhh,” Dean grabbed Sam’s shoulders, shook him a little to make Sam look at him. “Stop that. You need to stop talking like that, Sam. Listen to me. It’s just the way it is, see? It’s the way it is for us. Nobody gets special treatment.”

Even as he said it, Dean felt another chill go up his spine. John had been his friend, his mentor, someone he looked up to and admired. It was more of a shock than he could admit to lose him.

“He was supposed to be my Tutor this year,” Sam growled, still sobbing but calmer now that Dean’s hands were on him, steadying him. “He was supposed to teach me how to pass.”

“I know,” Dean murmured, ignoring the tightness in his chest. His grief. “I know, Sam. It’ll be okay. They’ll assign somebody else.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” Sam wailed. “I want John!”

“I know,” Dean yanked the younger boy in hard, tangling one hand in his hair while he rubbed Sam’s back with the other. “I know, Sammy.”

Dean could feel his chest loosening, Sam’s huge hiccups threatening to make the tears flow down Dean’s own face, so he held Sam tight, pressing his face against Sam’s damp cheek.

Sam sobbed uncontrollably for another moment, then quieted, taking deep, shaky breaths as he clung to Dean, hands clutching reflexively in his shirt.

After a minute or two, Dean released him so he could fetch a clean rag for Sam and a couple of water bottles. They sat on the bench against the wall, staring at the dust motes that floated in the light from the setting sun, each lost in his own memories.

“I remember when he first came here,” Dean said. “He and Mary. They seemed so happy.”

Sam nodded. “They were in love,” he said.

“I never saw them argue,” Dean agreed. “Maybe they did. Probably they did. But I never saw it. I remember thinking I’d like to have that, one day.”

“Yeah.” Sam smiled despite himself, and a little of the tightness in Dean’s chest loosened up.

“They lived well,” Dean said. “I think they would both say they lived good lives.”

Sam frowned, and Dean caught the flash of anger in his eyes. “It’s not fair, Dean,” he said. “It’s not fair for them not to have longer. If anyone deserved a deferral, they do.”

“There are no deferrals,” Dean reminded him, and Sam nodded, clenching his jaw.

“We have to get out of here,” he said fiercely, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “I can’t lose you, Dean. If they come for you, I’ll make them take me, too.”

“Sam.” Dean sighed, shaking his head. “We’ll figure it out, I promise. We’ve still got plenty of time.”

 

**//**//**

The Guardians assigned Victor to be Sam’s private coach, now that John was gone. They reassigned all the Tutors, to make up for the deficit after John’s and Mary’s departure. Sam was assigned to teach a class of fifth-graders who were transitioning into the middle school next year.

“Tell them what you know, Sam,” Ms. Emily instructed. “Inspire them.”

After the first week, Sam collapsed on the bed and slept for twelve hours straight.

“Teaching is hard,” he complained to Dean when he woke up, hair in a bed-tousled mess around his flushed face. He looked exhausted.

Dean gave him a blow job just to help him relax, since he obviously needed more sleep.

**//**//**

For Dean’s 21st birthday, Victor bought him a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black. Alcohol was strictly forbidden at Seven Gables, as was every other recreational drug, but Dean had managed to sneak a few beers and even a small bottle of Jack, thanks to Victor and Christian, who had both learned to drink at college.

“Go easy on it,” Victor instructed. “It’ll last longer. And don’t let Sam have any. It’ll just make him sick.”

“Go slow, Sam!” Dean cried when Sam tipped the bottle to his lips later than evening. He’d already tried a couple of slips, coughing and sputtering adorably, and Dean could tell he was tipsy because he couldn’t stop giggling. Everything was funny.

Dean grabbed the bottle away and Sam coughed and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Don’t be such a worry-wart,” Sam slurred, blinking as he gazed around the room, his eyes finally focusing on Dean’s face. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Shut up,” Dean rolled his eyes as Sam reached for him, clearly trying to cup Dean’s cheek but falling short and stumbling forward into Dean’s arms instead. “Okay, okay. I’ve got you.”

“Dean, did I ever tell you how much I love you? Why don’t I tell you that more often, huh?”

“I don’t know, Sammy. Maybe because you’re drunk, huh?”

“I am?” Sam giggled. “I like it. It feels so good. _You_ feel so good.” Sam nuzzled into Dean’s neck, pressing his lips behind Dean’s ear. “You smell so good. God, Dean, I’m so horny.”

Dean felt Sam’s hand fumbling down between them, reaching for Dean’s dick.

“Okay,” Dean mumbled, pushing Sam gently down on the bed. “Maybe standing isn’t such a good idea, huh? Or sitting, either.”

“Yeah, let’s lie down,” Sam gasped, wiggling his ass and thrusting his hips up as he pulled Dean down on top of him. “Need you to fuck me, Dean. Need you to. Please? Need you inside me so bad.”

Although Sam’s wanton pleading sent shivers of arousal through Dean’s body, Dean wasn’t sure he could comply with Sam’s request. He’d had a few swallows of the whisky himself, and he was feeling pretty loose.

Besides, Dean wasn’t sure if this was Sam or the whiskey talking. Make that begging. They hadn’t done that yet. Not for lack of wanting to, but because Dean had sworn not to hurt Sam, and he’d been bigger than Sam in every way when their relationship took a sexual turn.

Not so much any more, though. At sixteen-and-a-half, Sam showed every indication of becoming a giant someday, and his hands and feet were already huge. Dean didn’t want to admit how much it turned him on, thinking about Sam’s big hands.

“Come on, Dean! Please!” Sam was wiggling out of his pants, pushing his shirt up, getting naked in record time. “Fuck me! Please fuck me, Dean.”

“Jesus, Sammy, you don’t know what you’re asking,” Dean gasped as Sam’s erection bobbed free, as his long legs and arms wrapped around Dean.

“Too many clothes, Dean,” Sam mumbled. “Need you naked, too.”

Sam pulled and tugged on Dean’s shirt, fumbled ineffectually at his pants, till Dean realized he’d better undress before Sam managed to tear something.

“I finger myself all the time, Dean,” Sam gasped as he tried to help Dean take his clothes off. “Sometimes I think about you fucking me and I come without even touching my dick.”

“Fuck, Sam,” Dean breathed, more than a little overwhelmed but too tipsy to argue.

“Yeah,” Sam went on babbling. “Oh yeah, Dean. Shit, you feel so good.”

Once they were both naked, they rocked against each other, dicks sliding together between their bellies, harder than they should be considering how drunk they were. Dean buried his face in Sam’s neck, licking up the sweat on his skin, sucking at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Sam grabbed Dean’s hand as he hooked his leg over Dean’s hip, making those breathy moaning sounds that Dean loved best.

“Right there,” Sam gasped as he guided Dean’s hand to his hole. “Feel that? I’m all loose and open for you. I do it all the time. So you can fuck me, Dean. You can fuck me and it won’t hurt, I promise.”

“Jesus, Sam,” Dean gasped as his fingers slid through the lubricant around Sam’s hole. How did the kid even know about this stuff? It wasn’t like you could learn about anal sex in the school library. And since Dean had put his foot down and refused this in the early days of their relationship, Sam hadn’t insisted. He’d definitely never begged before.

Apparently the liquor had loosened Sam up, in more ways than one.

“I want you to have it,” Sam was still babbling, forcing Dean’s fingers into his slippery hole. “I want you to fuck me. It’s my birthday present to you, Dean. Please take it.”

How the hell was Dean supposed to resist that?

“Aw, Jesus, Sammy,” Dean protested as his middle finger slipped in to the second knuckle.

Sam jumped and moaned into his ear, and Dean realized he’d hit something in there, something that made Sam feel really, really good.

 _Beginner’s luck,_ he thought as he slid the finger out and back in again, crooking his knuckle to find that place again.

“Oh God, that’s it,” Sam gasped, startling and trembling again. The kid threw his head back, and Dean lifted his head to watch Sam’s face as he did it a third time.

Okay, Dean could die now. He’d seen the most beautiful possible sight, and it was Sam when he’s being fingered. Who knew?

“Please,” Sam gasped, his voice ragged and shaky, his hips thrusting against Dean’s hand, all awkward and uncoordinated and involuntary, like he just couldn’t help himself. Dean didn’t even have to do anything, just hold his hand steady while Sam fucked himself on Dean’s finger, clutching the sheets and bucking convulsively. When his hole suddenly clenched tight as Sam’s whole body arched like a bow, Dean had only a moment to realize it before Sam was coming, mouth dropping open in a long, hitched moan as his dick shot long and hard on his belly and chest.

“Jesus, Sam,” Dean breathed reverently. If Sam could come so beautifully and untouched just on Dean’s finger, what would he look like on Dean’s dick?

“Come on, Dean.” Sam sucked in a shuddering breath and rolled over, onto his stomach, pushing his ass up and spreading his legs. “I’m ready. Come on. It won’t hurt, I swear. I’m all loose and relaxed now. This is the best way to do it for the first time. Come on.”

Dean knew he was too tipsy to think straight, but the sight of Sam all spread open and waiting for him was just too much. It was making his head spin and his dick leak.

“This is insane,” he muttered. “I’m not doing this without some lube, Sam.”

Sam reached for the bedside table, slapping at the drawer since he was too far away to open it and couldn’t seem to find the energy to crawl closer. Dean crawled over Sam’s spread leg and opened the drawer, finding a little tube of lubricant inside, just as he had known he would. Sam had planned this, the little bitch.

“Come on,” Sam whined, wiggling his ass and spreading his own cheeks impatiently. “Come on, Dean!”

“Okay, okay, I got this,” Dean mumbled, figuring out how to open the tube so he could drizzle the lube over his fingers, his dick. It was cold, but that was good. Sobered him up a little.

Not enough to stop, though.

When his dick was well-lubed and dripping, he knelt between Sam’s legs, messaging his ass cheeks with one hand as he lined his dick up with Sam’s little pink hole.

“You sure about this, Sammy?” he asked, although he was pretty sure he was too far gone to stop. “This really what you want?”

“Yes!” Sam pushed back as he felt the head of Dean’s dick against his hole, and damn if the whole head didn’t slip right inside. “Fuck!”

Sam was trembling, breathing hard, and Dean held himself perfectly still, letting Sam adjust. His dick felt like it was clenched in a hot, wet vice, and he couldn’t imagine it felt as good as the fingering had felt.

“You okay, Sam? You want me to pull out?” He asked, rubbing along Sam’s spine, over his lower back where he imagined the muscles were cramping, reacting to the strange intrusion.

“No, no, I’m good,” Sam gasped, pushing back again, impaling himself a little more on Dean’s dick. “It’s okay.”

Dean had to close his eyes and clench his teeth against the overwhelming sensation of plunging his dick, however slowly, into the tightest, hottest place it had ever been. Just the thought that it was Sam, that he and Sam were really joined like this, made it almost impossible not to come, and it took every ounce of strength in his body to resist the urge to thrust.

Sam was shaking and panting, pushing back a little then stopping again to catch his breath and adjust. Dean rubbed soothing hands over the boy’s ass and lower back, deep inside now, no longer needing to guide himself at all. It was all up to Sam, which was the only way this could happen, or so Dean told himself. It had to be all up to Sam.

He was so used to the pace and his own ability to adjust to the intense sensation of having his dick slowly sheathed in delicious wet heat that he almost lost it when Sam suddenly shoved back, completely impaling himself with a long, low moan.

“Holy fuck,” Dean hissed, digging his fingers into Sam’s hips harder than he intended. There would be bruises on the smooth flesh tomorrow.

“It’s okay,” Sam panted, his words choked off by a sob. “It’s okay. I can do this. It’s okay.”

“Sammy.” Dean stared down at the place where their bodies were joined and had to close his eyes against the sight. His dick throbbed, and Sam pushed back again, then rocked forward, letting a little of Dean’s dick slip free before pushing back with a gasp that was half-sob, half moan.

“Oh God, that’s it,” Sam babbled as he did it again, then a third time. “Oh God. Oh God, Dean. That’s it.”

Sam’s words became shuddering gasps as he rocked back and forth, hitting the sweet spot inside again and again. Dean leaned forward, wrapping his arms around as he blanketed Sam’s body. He took Sam’s half-hard dick in his hand and stroked it, and Sam buried his face in Dean’s pillow to muffle his cries. Just when Dean thought he couldn’t hold out another second Sam stiffened and arched back in his arms, spilling over his hand as he let out one last hitched breath and collapsed onto his belly, channel clenching around Dean’s dick, and that was it for Dean, too. Dean felt himself spill deep inside Sam’s body, almost blacking out with the force of it. He came to a few moments later with Sam already passed out beneath him, breathing deeply, and he pulled out with a hiss and fell onto the bed beside the boy, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

**//**//**

“You know, in the outside world, what we did last night would be considered statutory rape,” Sam said as they sat together in the garage the next afternoon, huddled together for warmth.

They had nursed their hangovers, then spent most of the day here while Dean tried to get his cold fingers to warm up enough to work on the school’s old van, which had broken down yet again. Ms. Emily expected him to run into town to pick up supplies, but the van was over ten years old, and Dean was beginning to think it would never run again. Sometimes things just got old and died. He knew Ms. Emily didn’t want to hear that, though, so he was doing his best.

“Good thing we’re in here, then,” Dean huffed out a breath, trying to pretend he couldn’t see it crystalize in the cold January air.

“That’s just it,” Sam said, and Dean knew he was in for another lecture. “It wouldn’t matter if we did live out there. The laws don’t apply to us. They don’t protect rape victims if the victim is a clone. We can be raped, tortured, assaulted, even murdered with impunity.”

“I don’t know about that, Sam,” Dean shook his head. “I’m pretty sure there’s laws against murdering clones, or damaging us beyond repair. They need us.”

Sam was silent for a moment, then he shook his head. “I don’t think so, Dean,” he said sadly. “I don’t think you can be prosecuted for harming one of us. You might have to pay something in civil court, but I’d bet there’s no criminal court that would try a human for hurting a clone.”

“Anyway, what we did last night definitely wasn’t rape,” Dean smirked. “If you’d been consenting any harder, I might have had to tie you down.”

Sam grinned. “You can, if you want,” he offered, and Dean shook his head.

“You better be careful what you wish for,” he said. “I might have to spank you.”

“Okay,” Sam grinned even broader, just asking to be tickled, so Dean did, laughing along as Sam collapsed onto the floor and tried to roll away from him, giggling uncontrollably.

**//**//**

When Dean thinks back on the three years he and Sam spent in Austin, working and going to school, he’s still struck by how lucky they were. That period in their lives will always feel golden and unreal, as if Dean’s watching a movie filmed with a special filter. They lived and loved and ate in the little apartment they were assigned to when they moved into town, paid for with money Dean earned working at a local garage. Sam studied at a little desk under the living-room window when he wasn’t in class or running along the lake. Dean watched him grow and change, muscles filling out, limbs lengthening until he was almost a full head taller than Dean by the time he was twenty.

Sometimes, they fought, arguing over money or sex or whether someone either of them had just met was a threat to their relationship or their “cover” as ordinary humans. Sam used the university’s databases to learn everything he could about their predicament, always searching for some way to get them out of their deal. Sometimes they fought about it, sometimes they went days or weeks or even months without thinking much about it.

Dean knew his time was running out. Most clones began donating sometime after their twenty-fifth birthdays. They both knew that the letter could arrive any day, telling Dean to report to a local holding center. Neither of them ever mentioned it, but it was on both of their minds. The air was thick with it.

When the letter finally arrived, it wasn’t what they expected at all.

**//**//**

“They’re shutting down the school,” Sam said. “They want me to report to a holding center in Sacramento. You’re supposed to come with me.”

“What?” Dean grabbed the letter out of Sam’s hands, read over the sentences there. “But – but you’re not done here. You don’t have your degree yet.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sam shook his head. “They don’t need Tutors anymore.”

Dean was stunned. It wasn’t possible, Seven Gables shutting down. They’d never considered that such a thing could happen.

“But – all those students,” he stammered. “The Tutors. Victor.”

Sam shook his head again. “The students are being sent to other growing centers. The Tutors are going to their assigned holding centers. It’s over.”

“It can’t be,” Dean insisted. “It’s not our time yet.”

Sam licked his lips, clenched his jaw and looked away for a moment, and Dean knew there was something he wasn’t telling Dean. Something he was hiding.

“Sam? What is it?”

Sam took a deep breath, raised his eyes to Dean’s and winced.

“I’ve found him.”

‘What do you mean, you’ve found him? Found who?”

Sam took another deep breath, squaring his shoulders that Dean knew would one day be broad and intimidating. He could just tell. “I found my original.”

“Your – Are you kidding me?” Dean stared. “How? When?”

“About a month ago,” Sam admitted, wincing a little when Dean glared. “I know, I should have told you, but it’s complicated.”

“Why? Sam, what aren’t you telling me? Is your original somebody famous after all?” Dean’s head spun with possibilities, none of them good.

“Infamous, more like,” Sam said, clenching his jaw as if he was fighting back his anger. “He was one of the original supporters of the Cloning Project sixty years ago. Wealthy, successful, just like you said. Degrees from Harvard and Yale. One of the founders of an experimental school for clones, located in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Dean stared, feeling his eyes open impossibly wide. “You’re joking,” he breathed.

Sam shook his head tightly. “Nope. Here’s his picture.” Sam pulled out a folder from the bedside table, and Dean realized it had been lying in there for a while. Dean could have opened the drawer and found it himself. Maybe Sam had hoped he would.

The photograph wasn’t recent; it had obviously been taken in an age when men wore open-necked shirts and polyester suits. It was a fairly standard head-shot of an unusually good-looking man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, his long dark hair brushed back from his face, clean-shaven except for ridiculous sideburns, his slanted hazel eyes staring directly into the camera. A familiar constellation of moles lay in perfect asymmetry across his forehead, cheeks, and chin, the one on his neck barely visible over the collar of his pale gold shirt.

“No way,” Dean said. “That’s not – that can’t be Mister. Can it?”

But Dean knew it was. He remembered the way Mister looked at him, that day back at the school, remembered feeling there was something familiar about him. At the time, he assumed he was just remembering that other time Mister had come to the school, when Dean was little.

But now he realized that Mister was familiar because he looked like Sam.

Sam was smiling grimly, no humor in his eyes whatsoever. “That’s not all,” he said, handing Dean another folder.

Inside was another picture of Mister, this one taken when he was even younger. He was smiling, looking happy and tan and somehow friendlier and more sympathetic than he had in the other picture.

He wasn’t alone. He had his arm draped around a shorter man, a man with huge green eyes and full pink lips, a man who smiled into the camera at Dean as if he were laughing at him.

Dean’s original.

“Who – ?” Dean’s hand was shaking so he put down the picture and looked up at Sam. He could feel his cheeks flush, his chest and throat tightening so he could barely breathe.

Sam nodded. “His name is Jensen Ackles,” Sam said. “He was born in 1928 in Dallas, Texas. He died in a car accident in 1968, at the age of forty.”

Dean swallowed. “So he and Mister were…”

“Lovers, yeah,” Sam nodded. “Well, back then gays were more closeted. Jensen is referred to as Mister’s ‘friend’ in most of the pictures.”

“There’s more pictures?”

“Mister was heavily involved in the early years of the cloning project, Dean,” Sam said, spitting his words out angrily. “There was a lot of excitement around it, especially when the first infant center was founded in 1958. Mister was there, with Jensen. They weren’t much older than we are now.”

“So my original was one of the monsters who helped create this whole thing,” Dean clarified. “He gave his own DNA to the project.”

“We don’t know that,” Sam shook his head. “Mister might have done it posthumously, after Jensen died. Maybe even without his consent.”

“Either way, he was part of it,” Dean said, anger rising in his chest. “I’m modeled after a monster.”

“No, Dean,” Sam shook his head. “That would be me. You’re modeled after the monster’s lover. Jensen wasn’t a scientist, or an engineer, or even a wealthy supporter. He was just a guy. He went to college to learn to be a physical therapist, working his way through school as a caterer, which is how he and Mister met. Jensen was serving rich people at cocktail parties. At least, that’s what his obituary says. It says he joined Mister’s personal staff when he graduated from college.”

Dean shook his head. “My original went to college,” he said. “I’m having trouble wrapping my head around that.”

“Dean, it doesn’t mean anything!” Sam said, clenching his fists. “You don’t have to be who he was! That’s not what this is about. That’s partly why I didn’t tell you as soon as I found out. I knew you’d start making comparisons. You’re nothing like him!”

“Why? Because I haven’t been whoring myself to some sugar-daddy for the past four years? How do you know I’m not just a gold-digging prostitute at heart, Sam? Huh?”

“Because I know you, Dean,” Sam sighed. “Because you’re a good person. Besides, it looks to me like they were really in love. There’s no evidence Jensen was just along for the ride. Mister dedicated an infant center to him.” Sam raised his eyes to Dean, and Dean could hear it coming almost before the words came out. “The one you were born in, Dean. In Dallas.”

“Of course.” Dean threw his hands up. “This just couldn’t get any more disgusting, could it?”

“Dean.” Sam’s tone was soft, quietly pleading. “This is why I couldn’t tell you. I knew you’d put yourself down over it.”

Dean swiped a hand over his face and stared down at the picture on the bed wordlessly, wishing he could punch something. Or someone.

“So that’s it then,” he said finally. “We have the privilege of knowing who we’re copied from, just before we go off to die. Fuck that, Sam. I would’ve rather died not knowing.”

He knew he was being a dick; he could read the devastated look in Sam’s eyes before the younger man turned away, jaw clenched as he fought back tears. He started stuffing underwear into his bag with his back to Dean, but Dean could see his shoulders heaving, like he was struggling with those powerful emotions he always worked so hard to keep in check.

“Sam…”

Dean took a step forward, all anger draining from his body in the face of Sam’s distress. He reached out to put a hand on Sam’s back and Sam jumped, whirling around so fast his hand flew up and slammed into Dean’s jaw, clearly by accident.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, immediately contrite. “I didn’t mean to hit you!”

“It’s okay,” Dean tried to smile, rubbing his aching jaw. “I’ll try to return the favor when you least expect it.”

Sam tried to smile, too. He stood helplessly, big hands hanging out of the sleeves of his hoodie at his sides, like he didn’t trust himself to keep them under control. Like he had to consciously keep them down where they couldn’t hurt anyone.

“Those things are weapons,” Dean chuckled, still rubbing his jaw.

Sam raised his eyes to Dean, sheepish now. “He lives here in Austin,” he said, and Dean felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. “I want to try to see him, before we go.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to come,” Sam said.

Dean stared, knowing how wide-eyed and shocked he looked, with a bruise starting to form on his cheek. He couldn’t think straight. What Sam was suggesting just wasn’t done. Hadn’t ever been done, to his knowledge. Just the idea of it made his stomach churn.

“You’re planning to confront your original,” Dean clarified slowly, sluggish and slow, like he was under water.

“I want answers,” Sam nodded. “Why did he do it? Why clone himself and Jensen? How – “

Sam squeezed his eyes shut against the tears forming there, and Dean waited, speechless with horror.

“How could he do it?” Sam finished, clenching his fists. “How could he make us how we are?”

Dean understood. Their love felt like a sick joke, now that they knew about Mister and Jensen. Their attraction to each other had been genetically predestined. Engineered, like everything else about them.

“I’m coming with you,” he said.

It was the only way.

**//**//**

Jared Padalecki was an old man. His hair was white and receding, his bones showed through his thin, paper-white skin. Dean knew immediately that he was Sam’s original, despite the difference in age. This is how Sam would look one day.

Mister stared at Dean like he was seeing a ghost.

“Jensen?” The word slipped from his thin lips like a whisper, and at first Dean thought he said “Ginseng,” like he was offering them tea.

“Uh, no, we can’t stay,” Dean said. “We just wanted to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay.”

“Yes, of course,” Mister waved them inside, glancing behind them like he was afraid someone might be watching. He returned his gaze to Dean as soon as the door closed behind them, staring a moment too long. His eyes were shiny, his movements hesitant and slightly off-balance. “How can I help you?”

Dean cleared his throat, shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Look, I know this isn’t exactly protocol…” he began.

“No, no,” Mister shook his head. “I’m glad you came. I always figured one of you would show up, one day.”

“One of us?” Dean repeated. “You mean, there are more?”

Mister looked away, a flush rising in his cheeks. “When I lost Jensen, I donated his DNA to the Project. It was my way of keeping him alive, of letting part of him continue.”

He looked at Sam for the first time, smiling faintly. “They asked for my DNA, too, and of course I gave. I was a romantic, and I hoped…I thought maybe somehow…” He blinked, turning his gaze on Dean again. “What are your names?”

Dean told him, and Mister nodded. “So you were raised together?”

Sam shook his head, and it occurred to Dean that this was weirder for him than it was for Dean. It must feel like looking into a fun-house mirror, seeing yourself aged sixty years.

“They moved me to Seven Gables when I was five,” Sam says. “I tested out of the center where I was before, and they decided I’d do better at the Gables.”

Mister nodded. “Seven Gables was my family home,” he explained. “After Jensen died, I couldn’t stand to live there anymore, so I donated it to the Project on the condition that they raise his clones there.” He gave the same sad, slight smile as before. “I didn’t care where they put my clones. It’s pure coincidence you two ended up together.”

“We prefer to think of it as something a little more than just coincidence,” Sam said, and Dean could feel the anger under his words. “We think somebody set us up.”

“Sam…” Dean put his hand on his brother’s arm, a gentle warning.

“What? He should know,” Sam said, chest puffing up as his anger grew. “Somebody thought it was funny, putting us together. They thought it was fuckin’ hilarious.”

“I assure you, son, there was never any plot to bring you two together,” Mister said.

“We’re soul-mates!” Sam practically shouted, clenching his fists, and Dean realized he’d never seen Sam so angry, which was really saying something. “You must have known when you cloned yourselves that we would eventually find each other. Just like you and Jensen did. You wrote your fucking dissertation on it!”

That was news to Dean. He stared at Sam for a moment, then glanced at Mister.

The man was blinking back tears, for Chrissakes, nodding as if he’d been expecting this.

“Let’s take a seat in the living-room,” he said softly, more evenly than Dean would have expected, given the fact that Mister was now facing two volatile, unpredictable clones with nothing to lose and nobody to witness what might go down.

Then Dean noticed the cameras perched in the corners of the room, red lights glaring at him solidly.

“They’re not connected, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Mister said quietly, and Dean started, staring at Mister for a moment before his gaze shifted to Sam, who clearly had the upper hand. “They’re just recording.”

“Of course,” Sam said, as if he understood. “Because you were hoping this would happen. You’ve been waiting for us.”

Mister poured himself a drink before taking a seat opposite Sam and Dean, and Dean could see his hand shaking as he reached for the remote control on the table between them, pushed the button that switched off the recording device.

“There,” he said softly. “Now no one can see what you do here. Ever.”

“Huh,” Sam said. “So you’re not afraid of us.”

“I’m not afraid to die, Sam,” Mister said softly. “I’ve been living in a self-imposed Hell for over thirty years. I think I’ve earned my rest, wouldn’t you say?”

Sam stared, obviously unwilling to hear what Mister was saying.

“Sam, I think he’s saying he wants to die,” Dean said. “Is that what you’re saying?”

Mister turned his eyes to Dean, drinking him in for a long moment before answering. “When Jensen died, my reason for living died with him,” he said softly. “I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Dean found himself nodding. “Yeah, I think I do,” he said.

“I’ve been going through the motions, doing what I thought I had to do, to honor his memory.” Mister shook his head. “I’m not sure he’d like the way things turned out.”

“He disapproved of the project.” Sam spoke up sharply. “He knew it was wrong.”

Mister took a sip of his drink before answering. “He knew it would fail,” he said finally. “The clones wouldn’t stand for it, ultimately. He foresaw the end of everything I worked for. He warned me.”

“Warned you of what?” Sam demanded, angry again. “What did he tell you about why it would fail?”

“He quoted my own words to me,” Mister said, unable to look at either of them. “He reminded me that my own creations would come looking for me, demanding answers. They would know me too well, and I couldn’t refuse them because I would know.”

“What?” Dean said softly. “What would you know, Jared?”

Mister raised his eyes to Dean, full of the pain and anguish of a man who had survived the death of the love of his life, but hadn’t lived since the day he died. Dean was reminded of how old Mister had looked when he visited Seven Gables, all those years ago. How ancient he had seemed then.

“Jensen knew it wasn’t right,” Mister said. “Creating a race of people who would serve us in every way would ultimately corrupt us. We couldn’t stay good if we did that. He tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen.”

“He was your moral compass,” Sam clarified, and Mister nodded.

“Yes. And when I persisted, when I kept going down the road to perdition despite what he said, I paid the ultimate price.”

Sam and Dean were silent for a moment, unable to deny the chill Mister’s words put in their hearts.

“But you didn’t let his death stop you,” Sam clarified. “You didn’t stop the project. You didn’t use your wealth and influence to put a stop to the evil you helped to create.”

Mister took another sip of his drink, shook his head. “No,” he agreed. “I was angry. When Jensen died, the cloning project was only ten years old. The clones were too young to donate the organs that could have saved Jensen’s life. I swore that would never happen to anyone else, ever again.”

“So you founded the infant center in Dallas,” Sam suggested. “In his name. The one where Dean was born.”

Mister lifted his eyes to Dean, and the misery and longing Dean saw there was terrible to see.

“Yes,” Mister agreed. “I wanted Jensen to have another chance. I wanted _us_ to have another chance. I couldn’t bear it that what we had was really over.” He shifted his gaze to Sam, swallowing as his eyes filmed over. “I loved him so much.”

Sam nodded, gaze dropping to the floor. Dean watched as he squared his jaw, figured out what to do next.

Dean loved Sam more in that moment than he had ever done.

“We’re soul-mates, Jared,” Sam accused. “Just as you and Jensen were.”

Mister shook his head. “You can’t be,” he said, almost sadly. “You don’t have souls. It’s just genetic attraction. It’s in your genetic code to be attracted to each other. That’s all it is.”

“Then that’s all it ever was,” Sam said. “For you and Jensen, too.”

Mister frowned, and for a moment Dean could see the reckless, angry young man he once was. “What is it that you want?”

Sam pulled out the letter from the Project and handed it to Mister. “I want a deferral,” he said. “For Dean.”

“A deferral?” Mister blinked. “On what grounds?”

“Dean and I are in love,” Sam said, “which proves we have souls.”

Mister stared at Dean, then shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Sam insisted. “You can fix it so he doesn’t have to report until it’s my turn. Then we can go together.”

Mister shook his head. “You don’t understand, Sam,” he said. “It’s too late. The Project is too far along. Millions of people depend on your donations. The current life expectancy for the average American is over 100 years old. Nobody wants to go back to a time before that was possible. No one wants to lose their loved ones before they have to.”

“I understand that,” Sam nodded. “But a deferral for two clones nobody knows or thinks about can’t be that difficult. Not for somebody in your position.”

Mister looked at Dean again. “Is that all you think about?” he asked. “A deferral? Is that really the highest goal you can strive for?”

“What do you think?” Dean snapped. He was getting sick of the way Mister kept looking at him, like he was the answer to Mister’s most intimate prayer. “They’ve got us monitored. They track our movements. It’s not like we can just run away.”

Mister’s gaze dropped to the table; he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully. “Actually, that’s exactly what you can do,” he said.

“What?” Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

Mister took a deep breath, leaned forward and laid his glass on the coffee table so he could dig into the front pocket of his trousers. Dean half-expected the man to pull a gun on them, or pull out a phone and call the cops. He held his breath as Mister pulled out a long metal cylinder that looked like a cross between a medical device and a screwdriver.

“Give me your wrists,” he said, barely glancing up.

Sam caught on before Dean did. His lips parted and his eyes widened as the color drained from his face. He put his hand out and Mister grasped his wrist, pushing the tip of his device into the narrow groove at the top of Sam’s bracelet.

Dean held his breath as the bracelet unclasped and fell onto the table. He half-expected alarms to go off, men in black barging in through the front doors to drag Sam away.

Sam pulled his wrist back, rubbing it with his other hand, and nodded at Dean, who stuck his hand out quickly, before Mister could change his mind. If Sam was going down, Dean would be right there with him.

Mister’s fingers were dry and papery; he held Dean’s wrist almost tenderly, turning it over before sliding his device into the groove on Dean’s bracelet.

“There,” he said as the bracelet fell to the table next to Sam’s. “You’ve now officially completed.”

Dean understood what that meant; ‘completing’ was the term humans used for what happened to clones when their bodies could no longer sustain them after their final donation.

“So we’re dead?” Dean clarified. “But Sam’s only twenty. That never happens.”

“In an emergency, it does,” Mister said. “If there was a car accident and a patient needed an immediate transplant, and Sam was the closest donor, then it could happen.”

“But both of us at once? Won’t that look a little suspicious?”

Mister smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nobody knows about you two except Emily and me,” he said. “There’s nobody else who might question your simultaneous completions. Clones complete at the same time all over the country, whenever there are natural disasters or accidents, or even naturally. It’s not unusual.”

“Now what?” Dean demanded.

Sam and Mister shared a look, and Dean felt strangely left out as Sam nodded in some kind of silent understanding.

“Now we’re free, Dean,” Sam said softly, like he was afraid to jinx it. “We’re on our own now.”

Mister nodded, reaching into his pocket again to pull out his car keys. “You can take the Impala,” he said. “It was Jensen’s car. He loved that stupid machine, and I kept it running for his sake, but I only drove it once a year, on his birthday, and it’s just sitting in the garage with nobody to look after it.” Mister looked up at Dean and smiled. “It needs a good mechanic.”

Dean felt another chill go up his spine. Today was a strange day that just kept getting stranger.

“There’s cash and credit cards in the glove box,” Mister said. “I think I had some vague notion of driving myself off a cliff one day, but I’m too much of a coward. Turns out I’ve got liver cancer anyway, no surprise there. Doc says I’ve got about six months.”

“Can’t you get a new liver?” Dean frowned, still stuck back on the shock of Mister’s strange gift.

Mister made a face that Dean had seen on Sam more than once, and he realized he was being a little slow.

“I’m seventy-one years old, Dean,” Mister said. “I was thirty-six when I lost Jensen. I’ve lived long enough to see my dream turn into a nightmare, everything Jensen warned me about come true. Seven Gables was the last bastion of an effort to show the world that clones were people, too. But the world doesn’t want to hear it. The world doesn’t want the clones treated humanely or decently. It doesn’t care. Worse than that, the world fears and despises you because you allow yourselves to be treated like cattle. The world doesn’t want to think about that, about what that says about who we are, about what humanity has become. The world would just as soon lock you all up, never let you out again. The world doesn’t want to be reminded of the monsters we’ve become.”

Mister handed the bracelet device to Sam. “Take it. If you want to free other clones, do it. You’ll still find a few of them in the wild. A few clones are still allowed to serve their masters by running errands or earning money to pay their keep. Save as many as you can.”

Sam nodded as he pocketed the device and rose to go. They didn’t shake Mister’s hand. They didn’t say goodbye.

Mister stood in his front yard, watching them drive away, and as Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, Mister raised his glass in a final salute.

 

//**//**//**//

Two years have passed, and now when Dean thinks back on the day their lives changed, it’s with an odd combination of relief and regret. Relief that they found Mister before it was too late. Regret that they hadn’t found him earlier.

But in a way it’s for the best. Sam got three solid years of college under his belt, and Dean gained skills that will help them survive. They got the benefit of a solid upbringing and a decent education. They’re better off than 99.99% of their kind, not to mention the humans. 

Now they drive from town to town, doing odd jobs, never stopping long enough to draw suspicion or raise questions they can’t answer. They keep an eye out for other clones, and every once in a while they find some, usually a couple like themselves, since clones are rarely allowed to travel away from their holding centers alone. Sometimes there’s a threesome, and Dean thinks about Ruby.

The first time someone turns them down, refuses their offer of freedom, it both confuses and saddens them. The system works too well, and many clones are content to stay where they are, in safe, predictable lives that end before they get old and useless. They’re satisfied with their lot, as Dean once was, proud of their ability to do some good in the world. Dean remembers that feeling. If he’d never met Sam, he’d be just like them.

He often reflects on the irony of Sam’s origins. How could someone who had helped create so much evil (no matter how unwittingly) originate someone as selfless and kind-hearted as Sam? Dean watches as Sam plans, plots, works tirelessly towards ending the cloning system, or at least saving a few clones. Sam has dedicated his life to two things: righting the wrong that is cloning, and Dean.

They read about Mister’s death in the newspaper about six months ago. He had “refused treatment,” the paper said, although he had been an early supporter of the very treatment he refused. The report noted that he was predeceased by his long-time partner, and that he had never re-married. No mention was made of Seven Gables. It was if the place had never existed.

Sometimes, as they’re barreling down a backroad somewhere in Kansas or Nebraska or Oklahoma, Dean thinks back on his time at the school he called home for almost sixteen years. The first few years are a bit cloudy in his mind now, but everything after the day Sam arrived comes back to him in sharp focus. He remembers running across the playing field, in a race with his classmates to reach the far fence. He remembers sitting with Sam under the old oak tree in the side yard, reading to him from the big book of _King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table_. He remembers playing hide-and-seek in the house on rainy days, finding Sam and tickling him as he writhed and choked with laughter.

He remembers their first kiss as if it was yesterday, and their many mornings waking up in each other’s arms, listening to the rain on the roof, looking forward to another day of work and school and lovemaking.

It wasn’t such a bad life, Dean thinks, although he knows Sam doesn’t agree. Sometime, Dean hopes they can settle down again, have a home with a little garden, maybe a kitchen where Dean can learn to cook the vegetables he grows.

He’d like that. Growing old someday with Sam sounds like a good plan. Sometimes, he can almost imagine it, two old men sitting on the front porch, watching the sunset, reflecting on the long lives Dean never expected them to have.

Maybe they won’t make it. Maybe they’ll be caught eventually, sent straight to a donation center somewhere. Maybe something will take them out, like a car accident or a fire in one of the ratty motels they stay in. Maybe they’ll be killed by robbers or other drifters looking to steal their car or their money.

But even if they don’t make it, they’ll have had this, Dean thinks. He glances at Sam, whose gaze is fixed on the view through the windshield, on the straight road and the endless landscape interrupted here and there by fenceposts and farm buildings off in the distance down long gravel driveways. Sam seems relaxed, content. He seems happy.

Nothing else really matters, Dean decides. Living in the moment, not knowing when or how it’ll all end, that’s freedom. That’s what humans have always done, if they’re lucky.

Dean’s definitely feeling lucky.  
.


End file.
